


creep

by vehlek



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: (it's probably not original), Asphyxiation, Begging, Character(s) of Color, Cock Worship, Creampie, Cum drinking, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Facials, Hand Jobs, Human/Pokemon Relationship(s), Hypnosis, Interspecies Sex, Masturbation, Mating Press, Or Is It?, POV First Person, Pokephilia, Pokémon are sentient, Rough Sex, Submission, Throat Fucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, actually dubious not just a codeword, but they can't talk, constant escalation, odd dick, original penis do not steal, possible impregnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19306792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlek/pseuds/vehlek
Summary: Middle of a heat wave, and the A.C. breaks. My life. Sweat my way through an ice cream errand, but on the way back, there's this guy on the bench right outside.Kinda weird, but he seems harmless.(pure smut front to back, not romantic, something weird going on here.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Burning Memory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434082) by [annathemonstereffer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annathemonstereffer/pseuds/annathemonstereffer). 



> this is not a lilou kind of story, friend—i'm not kidding when it say it is porn porn porn! there's something to read between the lines if you're so inclined, though
> 
> person of color tag is NOT for a fetish and i am very open to criticism from readers of color in particular, though i understand it's not anybody's job to educate me; regardless, i hope anyone with the predilection can enjoy this
> 
> (setting just kind of taken from annathemonstereffer's smutty blaziken story, so do check her out!)

It’s hot as balls out here.

Toes are sticking to my sandals and the plastic is smacking back against my heel every sweaty step. There’s no breeze. All these dainty little trees landscaped up and down this road, and no shade from any one of them. Just here to look pretty.

My A.C.’s busted. Three days til the repairman can come get me, and the weather people on my T.V. reported with all smiles and laughs that this heat wave’s on for all week.

“My” A.C.

The one goddamn time I housesit.

Just a flimsy supermarket bag hanging from my hand, swinging cold across my knee, couple boxes of ice cream sandwiches and popsicles rattling inside to get me through this weekend. Electric fan can only go so far. Taking my shorts off immediately back inside can only achieve so much.

Somebody out there better be grateful I put on a bra for this. Make me feel like it’s worth the sweat dripping down into my shirt, sticking to my stomach.

Right now it feels like my brain’s sticking to my skull in a worse way than human skeletons are supposed to accommodate. Grab the bottom of my shirt and swipe it over my forehead… hope nobody just got a free show, kinda can’t care enough if they did.

Little _deet-deet_ from my back pocket, and I can guess from who.

Pull my phone out and the notification is an up-close photo of Momma and Daddy posing in front of a goddamn alpine ski slope. Dressed for it. Grinning. Really, really, genuinely happy.

Their goddamn place that I’m housesitting out here.

Not even dignifying this shit. I just put my phone back in my back pocket before all my finger sweat seeps right into the circuitry.

Just kidding. My butt’s sweating even more. Fucked either way.

Something dripping on my toe, actually, wet and cold. Not just sweat. Glance down, and my popsicles are on their way out.

“Fuckin’ kill me….”

Almost out of the sun. Almost back. Hop back onto the curb as I cross blocks, and here’s me passing the first corner of a pointy cast iron fence gating in the cute little park right across the street from my folks’ townhouse.

Raise my free hand to bat against the bars as I pass, but—iron gets hot, too. Never mind.

It’s mostly a bunch of flowers and shrubs in the park landscaped all neat and colorful for the so-called upper-middle class in this neighborhood. But the neighbors are colorful, too. Lot of different skin on show around here. Not so much this week. But nice seeing just as many other black and brown people like me on this side of the city as on mine, when they brave this variety of fresh air.

Step back closer to the curb and look both ways before crossing the street again, like a good girl. It’s not gonna be some faded douche texting while he’s driving that’s the death of me today.

I look both ways, but I don’t cross yet.

There’s a dude here. Like, a guy. There’s a prim iron bench bolted into the pavement just next to the park’s main gate, and here’s a guy sat in the middle of it, facing the road, only other living being down this whole street.

A pokemon kind of guy.

A, um… I’m not good with all the different types. Big long nose. Fluffy white neckpiece—that’s gotta suck this time of year. Humantype, two long bulky arms leaned over his two thick fuzzy legs. Hunched away from the hot iron slats behind him, kinda slouched. Squinting across the road like he’s focused on something, but nothing’s there. Like he’s just… waiting.

A Hypno.

I remembered.

Whatever he’s waiting for, can’t be worth it on a day like this. But he’s got this look in his eye like he doesn’t notice the heat, or doesn’t mind it.

He looks back at me. Still with the squint, with that focus. Kinda intense.

I’m staring.

How long have I been staring?

Don’t really feel bad about it, though. Might not be showing it off, but this guy’s got to be boiling.

I dig one hand into my bag and rip the tab off the box inside. Pull out the papered outline of a cheri blue popsicle. Offer it.

“At least find some shade,” I tell him.

Not a word back from him. Or an emotion. Or blinking. But he raises one meaty hand, and there’s a lot of fuzz on his knuckles, too, as they brush against mine while he takes the ice cream. I raise my hand and grab the wrapper, and while he holds tight, I tear it off for him, wet and sticky.

I hold onto the paper, and I’m still just kinda watching him as he lakes a lick. Takes another. Another. Exact same pace for each lick, methodical.

But my sandals smack again as I take a couple steps over, and I toss the paper into the trash can on the other side of his bench.

I’ve done all I can.

Another glance either way down the road, and now I cross, bag swinging with me. Trudge up three steps onto the porch and twist the knob open—sorry, Momma, I still don’t lock the door when I go out. Bad habit.

But I take one glance back across the street before closing it.

Now he’s staring at me. Not licking anymore. Just squinting, waiting.

At me.

Whatever. I think you got ghosted, boy.

I nudge the door shut inside with my shoulder, and it gives me back a heavy click. And I’ve got to get this bag in the freezer, but now I’m standing here a second longer just thinking a minute.

Hypnos. Aren’t Hypnos one of the ones who have a thing? Their special thing. Like… a pendulum. That’s their thing.

Was he missing his? Or did I just not notice it?

Kinda weird, but it feels more like I can’t remember than I just didn’t notice.

He had one, right?

Little _deet-deet_ from my pocket.

Don’t pull my phone out, but it makes me kinda wonder if I should mention some Hypno hanging out front. Like, ask if that’s normal. I don’t remember this dude from when else I’ve come around here. But…

Nah.

Voice in the back of my brain telling me that’s the wrong vibe to bring.

Whatever. Just get these into the freezer.

 

 

Virginia, by the way.

My name.

And Genna, not Jenny.

I’m not wearing a bra anymore, you know. Or any of the rest of my clothes. And I’m all alone. If somebody were to come over right now and keep me company in this big lonely house, I don’t know what I might be willing to do to thank them for it….

God I’m bored.

God it’s hot.

Now it’s just two more days til air conditioning again.

Lift Daddy’s little whale-thing-shaped water pail over his fern he’s got hanging by the window, curtains shut while all I’m wearing is my underwear, and I’m concentrating very hard on not pouring too much between the fronds, yeah, yeah, not drowning any of his precious adopted babies. I’m sweating more than I’m pouring here.

Longest weekend of my life.

Should have just kept commuting from my place. Should probably still do that. Head home after these, just take the rail back here tomorrow—but the trip takes so _long_. I don’t wanna fucking commute on my days off, what the hell.

So either I choose that it’s just too hot to stay, or I just can’t be bothered to leave. Damn.

Yeah, I should go out tonight after all. Maybe I will. After dark, after it cools off, find a cool little bar someplace around here. Could use some of that.

Straighten up, jut one hip, lay a hand on myself, and whip my head back. Like _bam_. Bite my lip, give this imaginary guy behind me my steamy come hither. He knows what he wants. I know what he likes.

Maybe that could work better if I let my twists down from this bun.

That’s not happening.

God I’m horny.

Ever since yesterday, it’s been less like I’m just hot, more like I’m hot and bothered. In the extra way. Like I got injected with it.

Guess summertime still does its thing.

Yeah, I should go out later.

Feet sticking to the hardwood floor every step as I get over to the sink and set this pail back in the cabinet underneath, get out the spray bottle instead—spritz bottle, he seriously calls it—for Daddy’s cute little bamboo thing.

Should spritz myself, is what needs some spritzing.

Get the bottle out, then grab my phone from the corner of the ottoman on my way back over to the windows, actually. Center my frame, snap a photo of the cute little potted plant all alone and helpless on its accent table. Send that, then a little message:

  * _this is now a ransom_


  * _i want five mil or i’m gonna spray it, not spritz it_



Wait for it.

Stand here a minute, waiting for it. Still boiling.

They’re not going skiing every day, are they? Come on. Don’t make me that jealous. Don’t do that to your own daughter.

 _Deet-deet_ , good:

  * _Genna Do Not spray That One Just Spritz it Please_



He earned that.

Spritz his stubby little bamboo cutie, put this bottle back up. Sigh loud and grumpy, that part’s important. Dump my phone back next to my crumpled shorts, dump myself back on the sectional where I’ve got the fan set to blow, and here’s sweet relief.

T.V.’s going on with something in front of me, but I forget what I turned it to. Just close my eyes a second, bask in the artificial breeze.

Either go home or go out tonight. Probably my best options. Got to decide.

Kinda want to just masturbate instead, simplify the process. Or take another shower? Both. I can multitask. That’d do me right.

Extra little _deet-deet_. Lean over, tap the screen back on to check it.

  * _Genna Did You Just Spray my Lucky bamboo Only spritz it Please_



Meh.

Takes a little willpower to bother picking my phone back up, tell him he’s too late—

Jingly little chime echoes from the hall. Doorbell.

Toss my phone again, and it better be that my date’s two days early.

Ladylike sailor’s curse off my breath as my feet stick to the floor again when I stand up. Grab my shorts from the ottoman, grunt and groan the whole journey it takes hiking them back on. Find my shirt, drape myself back to decency, and squeak over to the door.

Thud the deadbolt free, and it only occurs to me I should have checked the peephole first while I’m already tugging the door open.

It’s a guy on the porch all right. Shorter dude than me, husky. But not a repairman.

A Hypno.

Shorter than me by several inches. Arms at his sides, and now it’s like he’s slouching on purpose. He’s in the shade this time on the doorstep, but he’s squinting up at me anyway, this look in his eyes like I don’t know what. Shrewd. Like the guy you’re supposed to think is the bad guy in foreign movies.

Fills up the whole porch just standing there, kinda, like he’s all I can see.

Is it rude calling someone shrewd?

He raises one hand up toward me, and between those thick fingers is a brand new popsicle, still in its wrapper, dripping down the corner of the paper. Razz berry red.

So… my hand comes off the doorknob, and my fingers brush over his as they wrap around the stick just above where he’s holding it. Immediately it drips down my knuckle.

When I told him to find some shade, I didn’t mean where I’m at.

Isn’t this the same time as I saw him yesterday? Does he have a routine?

My gut is telling me this is weird. I’d call this weird.

But I’ve got a higher-importance voice in the back of my brain telling me that it’s dangerous keeping somebody out in this heat, and that this guy is harmless.

I pull the door open wider and nod inside. His gaze shifts to the hall behind me, then comes back up to mine, like he’s double checking.

You think you’re interrupting me with some other guy? I ain’t that lucky yet, dude.

But he doesn’t come on in, so we’re just kinda looking at each other. A long awkward pause kinda thing.

Something about him just makes it way too easy to stare too long. Like zoning out.

To be more specific for him: “You wanna come cool off?”

I’ve already got the idea that his English isn’t… great. I don’t expect small talk. I just step out of the way.

Now he takes me up on it. The first time I’ve seen him walk, and he kinda slinks forward, more bobbing his shoulders between steps than swaying any bit. And for all the weight his belly’s packed on, he moves silently.

But I guess he does mind the heat.

Something catches a sharp reflection on him as he passes me by, and hey—there’s his pendulum. Looped over his neck, tucked over the fluffy white part.

All right, fine, guess I just didn’t notice it after all. Makes sense he wouldn’t want to hold it all the time.

It’s a little more weird thinking about it now, maybe a little gross, but… so much for getting off. Was just looking forward to that.

“Sit in front of the fan,” I call after him as I shoulder the door shut. “Air conditioner broke yesterday morning, repair guy can’t come fix it for another couple days. Didn’t say they were busy or anything. Just sounded like an asshole over the phone.”

There’s just a short corner from here to the family room, and as I turn it right after him, my current feeling is that maybe I should have at least left my bra somewhere other than the closest arm of the sofa.

That feeling is _GODDAMN_ you, bitch.

My new Hypno friend stares straight at it like I fucking perched it there on exhibit, black and silken, top halves of each cup laced in silhouettes of roses because this morning this bitch right here thought yes, _that’s_ the one I’ll wear if I feel frisky later.

But he’s also standing directly in front of the fan where he’s looking at it, and a couple seconds later he’s slinking onward toward taking a seat, scooting back into the exact middle of the sectional, cozying himself nice and hunched again. No second glance. T.V.’s already caught his full attention.

So he doesn’t see me scooping up my please-fuck-me underwear and tossing it _quietly_ at the staircase, vaguely toward my guest bedroom.

“Just make yourself, like… eighty-five percent at home,” I say, red dripping down my wrist. “It’s not my place—my mom’s and dad’s.”

Turn for the kitchen to grab a paper towel, navigate around this island where Momma and Daddy got all their pots and pans hanging from big hooks up top like in some magazine. Say they keep it humble, but around this neighborhood the folks are more upper than middle.

Don’t exactly need to give a tour, though.

Not that I know if he’s listening, but I call back to add, “They’re out of town.”

I tear the wrapper off my sloppy gift and then mop the mess off my skin, lick the bottom corners before they keep spilling. Really doubt it’s poisoned or something, so yeah, I’ll just eat it. It’s just as cold and sweet as the next one I’m grabbing out of the freezer for my guest—

Oh my god. No. Oh god.

I can’t just take my shirt off again now. I have a guest. It’s indecent.

What have I wrought.

But slower sticky steps take me back to the couch, and almost fully clothed, I curl one knee over the ottoman and pull myself back into the corner seat a foot away from my company. He’s got his hands dumped over his lap, only blinks like every half a minute.

I’m staring.

I pull my knees up and stick both popsicles in one hand, cross my arm over my stomach, slouch back. The fan’s got us both covered from here.

I don’t know why I’m staring.

It’s like getting some kinda song stuck in my head, looking at his weird face. He’s got these huge bags under his eyes, wrinkly, but he doesn’t look tired. Just a part of this intense focus he’s got naturally. Or that he honed. Practiced.

Something sticky slips back down my thumb. It’s automatic this time that I lick the red spill clean, give the corner another slurp before it keeps dribbling.

The Hypno’s looking at me.

My next look back at him, and there he is staring back at me, expressionless. I didn’t even notice his neck twist toward me.

Still got the stick of his popsicle tucked between my pinkie and ring fingers. Give mine another safety slurp, then I prod his pudgy tricep with whatever flavor yellowish-orange is. Mago flavor. I knew that.

“Yours. Got more in the freezer.”

He takes it. Already seems like a ritual as he holds on, and I tear the paper away for him. But this time I wrap the torn paper around my handle, catch the leaks before they stick to my fingers again.

Now we actually watch T.V. I don’t watch him. He doesn’t watch me.

We watch a lady grin and dance around in her underwear on the screen instead, advertising, making fun of me from her air conditioned studio. Commercials.

It’s just—it’s really easy to look at him.

I bet there’s some exact foreign-language word for this feeling.

He holds the stick at a perfect upright angle just an inch from his face, and he’s got the same methodical pace for licking now as yesterday: _Slup_. Wait a few seconds. _Slup_. Wait exactly three seconds. _Slup_. Three seconds. Time it. _Slup_.

I’m mesmerized. Kinda cools me off just watching him beat the heat his own way.

Not my thumb—something dribbles down my wrist this time.

 _FUCK_.

I only hiss out loud. Suck the buildup of melted red juice out from the paper around my stick, lick the extra off my wrist, and now I’ve got to get back to the rest of my own popsicle. Get back to work on it. Stop staring beside me so much—

Oh my god.

Is that his dick?

Wait, no, literally, is that his dick?

I swear to god there’s something pinkish-purple growing from his crotch, poking up through the fur where it wasn’t before, and that thing looks dickly as hell. Pushing right out between his thighs, dragging over the sofa.

That’s his dick.

Kinda human. But not human. Way too close to human.

Pushing out over the cushion and there’s all these little _nubs_ at his tip, round and squishy in a ring around the glans like stubby flower petals. Is that the glans? It’s almost flat, just those nubs around the rim. Kinda… porous nubs, on all their tiny tips. Not as pretty as flower petals. More like aquatic. Is he really mammalian? I don’t know what aquatic dick looks like.

He’s getting erect.

What the hell am I staring at this for?

Why _wouldn’t_ I?

He’s not stroking it or anything, not touching himself, not even looking at it. Still just licking ice cream and watching the screen and not blinking, totally enraptured by the T.V.

It’s still happening. He’s still growing.

And he’s just licking a popsicle while some underwear commercial catches his eyeballs.

I’m not watching the T.V. anymore.

Same shape as what I’ve ever seen, about the same girth top to bottom. Fat. But yeah, flat at the tip, just the nubs circling the rim. His shaft’s grown out long enough that I can see it stretching and drooping out from some kind of… pouch hidden by his fur. Like, the skin of his shaft sticking to the rim of his pouch for half a second, then popping loose and sliding farther out, getting thicker, stretching the pouch kinda sloppy and wider to make room.

He throbs.

Back to front, it bounces his whole thing. Like waking up, waving hello. Making the nubs pulse.

And then he’s fully extended in a big droop over the seat cushion, meaty and covered in a sheen and I can _see_ how slick it is.

 _Deet-deet_.

Oh fuck.

Glance at my phone on the corner of the ottoman and the screen’s lit up in a new message. I never—goddammit. Bad time. Bad time. Bad time.

Look back over, and my guest finally notices, too. Everything.

But he looks at me.

No expression. He just cranes his neck from toward his dick up toward me. Like no, yeah, I can still _see_ all that, guy.

Then really slowly, he stretches his gaze back around the sofa, looking all the way back toward the kitchen. Then over to the stairs. All around. But he’s not taking in the decor, and nowhere keeps his attention long.

His dick throbs again. Back to front, bounces. All the little nubs around his tip _bloat_ with the bounce this time, like stirred in a current. I see it. That is not a human dick.

I don’t know how the word even makes it out my mouth, but…

“Bathroom?”

He turns back toward me. No different look on his face now than ever, but he stares at me now. And his attention is caught.

I have to look back up to meet his gaze.

I point down the hall beside the kitchen.

“Second door on the left.”

He looks back there.

“The door’s open, so you’ll just… see it.”

He looks back at me. Looks down to his popsicle. Back to me.

Very, very slowly, I switch where I’m holding my stick, and I think maybe it’s dripping on me again already—and for some reason I just offer him an empty hand. Toward his ice cream.

He stares back at my hand. Back to my face. Motions the remainder of his snack toward my fingers, and okay, that’s what’s happening, I take it. I’m doing him a quick favor.

Then his hands find his cushion, and he pushes slow and steady back onto the floor, slinks the way I directed.

Doesn’t take any throbbing for his dick to wobble between every other step.

Right before he’s past the far corner of the family room where I can still see him, what I see is him getting harder. Saluting. Full mast, and that’s definitely another throb before he’s out of sight.

I hear him flick the light on, click the door shut.

How long I sit here I don’t know. I’m not guessing.

I think I need to… respond, reply to the messages. And wash my hands? They feel really sticky.

Yeah. I should get up. Go take care of them first.

Feet stick to the floor again too, and for some reason I’m trying to walk much much quieter around to the kitchen, and it’s in my peripheral thinking that I realize I’m willingly leaving my fan’s breeze. But I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.

Just dump both the sticks under the faucet, melt them down, no point finishing these. Then wash my hands. Dry off. Throw away the sticks. All part of a process.

Then scratch under my ear. Just an itch.

Not sure why I’m now pointed toward the hall instead of the sofa, my phone, the fan, the only cool air in the house.

I think my gut is trying to tell me something.

But I’ve got a voice in my brain trying to tell me something very different, and this is a lot of anxiety figuring out which to listen to.

Don’t think I’ve actively decided which advice to follow when I’m creeping toward the bathroom, not the T.V.

This doesn’t feel like me. But… I’m doing it, so maybe it is like me?

Raise my fingers in a backward fist, getting ready to knock, to ask if he’s okay, that’s what I’m doing—but I don’t knock. I just hold my fist in the air, and now I’m the one not blinking. I bare my ear closer to the door.

He’s jacking off.

Fan’s turned on to mask it, a noisy hum rumbling through the hollow door, but it doesn’t hide that fast wet smacking echoing way way louder out to my ear.

This… isn’t like me. I think.

Pokemon don’t make me horny. And I don’t jump on any dick presented before me. And I’m not some size queen, and I don’t even like that phrase. It’s tacky.

But he was _big_. Like, thick.

Real life thick. No fair big.

And all I can hear is a wet, heavy, back-and-forth jerking, slick and slimy, and how much can Hypnos ejaculate in one load? Is he gonna turn my parents’ bathroom into a splash zone? Is he aiming it into the toilet, into a wad of toilet paper, the bathtub, the hand towel?

This seems really sudden.

Would someone else find this really inappropriate? It’s like a thought in the regular part of my brain that won’t go away, and right now I kinda want it to. Either inappropriate as in me, listening in, or him—like, his whole deal right now.

Is he using both hands to rub it out? I can’t tell. I can hear one hand thumping back against his groin with every tug, at least. He’s seriously jacking it. Got to be imagining himself going balls deep in somebody going like that.

I think the heat’s doing things to me.

My ear’s pressed flat against the door. I swear I don’t know how I got this close. One hand balanced next to it, keeping me still and quiet, and I don’t want to get caught.

He’s speeding up. Not a single groan from him, can’t tell how heavy he’s breathing, but I’ve handled dicks enough to recognize when a dude is about to bust a nut. Is he gonna make a face when he cums, show an actual emotion?

I think I’m holding my breath.

He’s stopped jacking. I don’t hear anything.

Is he cumming? Can’t hear him squirting into anything. The towel?

I hear another stroke, wet and stiff. Pause. Another couple sloppy strokes, getting out the last of it. He came. How much? I don’t need to know. Shouldn’t want to. What am I doing?

God it’s hot.

God, I need to go sit back down. Hide. Pretend I just didn’t.

 _Quietly_ , if my feet weren’t still sticking to the goddamn hardwood every step I take. Still trying not to breathe before I’ve made my escape.

Slide my butt back over the cushion, wrap my knees up to my chest, pretend I can see a single thing flashing by on T.V.

Remember to blink.

Breathe. Deep breaths.

Real-life thoughts come back gradually, but there’s not much room for them in my brain right now.

Do Hypnos have a thing?

Not the pendulum. Some other thing, something about them.

Why would a pendulum be their thing anyway?

I don’t really know pokemon, I took one class on them in my second semester in uni. My degree is for machine learning. I know Porygon, Pikachu, and Serperior. And Serperior only because it’s a brand name. Those are the ones I know.

I don’t know. Can’t remember. Doesn’t matter.

The bathroom door clicks back open, and I even hear him flip the light back off before he leaves. That’s good. Conserve electricity. Not that Momma can’t afford it. But that’s good of him.

Blink. Keep it up. Not a deep breath, just a normal one. Easy.

My guest slinks back around the corner, slips by the fan, and he braces one meaty hand on the edge of the sofa before he slumps back into the middle, just a foot away from me. Squinting, slouching, propping his hands over his lap, all comfy again.

No more dick. Totally retracted. Tucked away again for some rest.

That’s good.

He doesn’t seem to remember the ice cream I was holding on for him, which is good, too. I’ll just grab him another if he… looks at my hand or something.

Nothing suspicious about how much I’m sweating, how hot I can feel my face looks.

I need my phone.

Just lean for it subtly, don’t look over for if he notices. Just… tap out that I only spritzed it, okay? So you can drop it already, Daddy. Stop messaging right now.

And now I’m just holding my phone between twiddled thumbs, nothing else to do with it, but sure as hell I’m pretending. Just something to fiddle with. Something else to pay attention to. T.V.’s not doing it.

Is he—?

My guest is watching T.V. again. He doesn’t notice. His dick is not back. Good good good, good.

Got both thumbs over my screen like I even know what else I was going to do with this thing. Like about to check the news like a very regular person right now.

Should I mention this development? Call someone?

Why the fuck would I call someone? Nobody will ever hear of this. This is a deathbed secret. And not even then.

My guest remains flaccid. Okay. Now I’m keeping track of that.

So when the sun sets or something, when it’s cooling off, is he just gonna go? Is that when I tell him he’s got to go, goodbye? Do I tell him he’s got to go?

But I’m the one who invited him in. My place or not, he’s my guest.

And it is really, seriously hot out. Does he have someplace else to go? Is he sleeping on benches? Don’t pokemon just get… let go of sometimes, abandoned?

My gut is telling me that’s his problem, and the voice in my brain getting louder is telling me he’s my _guest_ , and being someone’s guest means something. That means something. That’s important to me.

Never really had my own personal guest before. And friends definitely don’t count, they can grab their own damn drink.

But really suddenly, it means something to me.

Normally I’d say I’ve got to trust my gut, always trust my gut, but this time… it feels kinda overruled.

I’m just scrolling past headlines on my phone, yes, checking the news, and he’s just watching T.V. Hunched, squinted, not looking at me anymore.

Was he jacking off to something on T.V.? That underwear commercial?

Was he jacking off to me?

Kinda want to… know. Only kinda. I don’t need to tell myself I want to know for sure—I can just leave it open.

Maybe just…

“So—um… you from around here?”

Small talk, yeah, definitely. Mostly for me. I really need either of us to not be completely silent right now.

“You living the vagabond life? Town to town? Know somebody around here?”

Either he doesn’t care about the questions or he likes playing the mysterious dude who acknowledges nothing about his past.

He’s just watching T.V. Doesn’t even glance my way now.

Wait, here—yeah, he glances my way. Just takes a second.

And then he looks right back to the T.V.

He’s got fingers—he could make little walking motions or something, sign me an answer if he really wanted.

Or like… nod his head. Shake his head. He’s got options.

So now we’re just both watching T.V. again, totally silent. I don’t have the volume up that high. Don’t really want it that high.

More like I’m scrolling around on my phone at—um, articles, I guess. I’m not really… reading any of this stuff.

It’s really hard to pay attention to either screen right now.

And it’s just… really easy to stare at him. For… I don’t know how long for. Minutes? Could be hours.

Don’t really try small talk again. Guess he’s actually into whatever’s on.

Actually—peek back toward the T.V., and it’s a soap. Huh.

Well, was. Just switched to commercials.

Oh. And wouldn’t you goddamn know it.

First one, here’s the same damn lady laughing back at me in her underwear, the same commercial. How many times did this company pay to get in between just one episode? How is that good economics?

Can I get his attention now—?

Oh my god.

Forget small talk, or the commercial. You’ve got to be shitting me.

Like however long ago it was and he’s already getting hard again.

Now I know what to expect, and I’m staring, like this time I’m _really_ staring. Thick shaft pudging back out from him. Shiny. Little more pinkish than purple, like an orchid, healthy glow. Really shiny, still smudged from his last load, I guess. All the little nubs circled around the tip _bloat_ again in his next throb, whole thing just as slick and sweaty. But they look flexible. Like they’ll just squish out of the way when it’s time for the squeeze. What are those for? What do they feel like?

Oh my god, I need to not think that.

So…all it takes is an underwear commercial to get him hard. Wasn’t me. It’s just tough for pokemon to control what happens sometimes, sure, and that makes sense to me.

But he’s into human women?

He’s just as thick this time. He’s not slowing down.

But me, I’m not into pokemon. Got into some things in uni, but not interspecies.

I’m just… I don’t want to admit it, but some part of me is just making me admit that this dick right in front of me is worth the attention.

Be even weirder if it was attached to a human kinda guy, but holy _shit_ if it was, right?

This is not like me. But… shit.

Oh shit.

He sees me. He’s watching me.

How long has he been looking back at me?

I look directly back to my phone, fumble through scrolling further down, totally fixated on this cool thing I’m reading, sorry!

Goddammit.

Is he looking at how red my face is? My fucking heart is pounding. I can’t hide it.

Not like he’s hiding it.

Cushion next to mine shifts hard, and I don’t even want to peek. But I still see in the corner of my eye that he’s getting up, slinking back around the sofa. I do not look. I do not. I just hear the bathroom light switch flicking on, the door, the lock clicking shut. And no way in hell do I get up.

Oh my god. Ohhh my god.

How many more times is this gonna happen?

For real, how fast does he build back up? No, not even like that, like, _clinically_ —his balls can’t be that huge if they’re not swinging free all the time. A dude can only cum so much, he can’t just… keep going forever.

Pokemon can’t be _that_ different. He’s at least got to have to eat a ton after going like this, right? Calories, protein?

Haven’t had any of that myself since breakfast. Is he going to stay long enough for lunch, too?

Never mind that a second. Got an encyclopedia right in the palm of my hand right now, one step short of a Pokenav—that’s not the one. Pokedex? That’s the one. Thinking about looking up this kinda guy.

Trying _not_ to think about a dude jacking his meat in my bathroom, getting ready to blow, ready for another round really soon after the first.

The fan isn’t doing anything for me. I’m sweating everywhere. Every inch of my skin is on fire.

Look him up. What am I looking up? Anything, whatever, “hypno.”

Top results: “Best 12 local hypnotherapists in your city,” “Signs that hypnotherapy may be right for you,” “‘Hypno’ is the first single off of rapper Yung Ya Goos’s sophomore album ‘Way Sleep On’,” who the fuck even.

Could have built a better algorithm myself than this junk.

Come on, “hypno pokemon,” gimme.

The hell.

These pictures are way uglier than the dude with me. What the hell, no wonder Hypno’s not one of the ones you see fucking everywhere. These dudes are fugly. Feel kinda bad.

Very top text result is from some anything-goes question board: “if i want to put a hypno on my team how much do i have to worry about it mind controlling me?”

Um.

Hey, what now?

Like…

My thumb’s just hovering over the link, but I don’t click it yet. This really sounds like something I need to know.

But maybe it’s not.

Come on. This is just somebody’s internet bullshit. Most of the stuff online about pokemon is just the wild myths that trainers spread to make it sound like they’ve got the most dangerous, riskiest job in the world, like everybody’s supposed to respect them for contributing nothing to society. I’ve got to pay no mind.

I don’t need to listen to my gut on this one, either. Not this time.

I’ll just… close this tab.

But then why’d I bother even looking him up?

Least it got me off from thinking about his dick.

Bitch… now I’m thinking again.

And there’s the door clicking back open, and I hear the bathroom fan coming off, and here’s my guest walking back silently to come watch some more T.V. with my cute self.

Just a glance as he rounds the sofa and scoots himself back into his seat, ignoring me. Politely ignoring me, I guess.

Retracted again.

When’s the next time it pops out? Done for the day? One more time coming up…?

I need a cold shower.

But he probably does, too.

Right, I’m actually hungry. That’s going on. Lunch. Ask him if he’s in.

“ _UM_.”

Oh god I shrieked it. Goddamn voice cracking. Sure got his fucking attention now.

“You hungry?” I say lower. “Gonna make lunch. Unless you got… dietary restrictions, something.”

Same look of nothing he gives me, but he doesn’t just meet my eye. He glances at my cheeks, or neck, burning up. Fuck.

Trying to say it higher now than just squeaking, but I tell him, “My mom’s diabetic, and she and my dad are both gluten free, so—we got options, I’m saying. Got a lot in the fridge. But I was just gonna heat up some vegetables anyway, if you… eat those. Stir fry.”

Wasn’t thinking about day drinking before, but I’m starting to think I could really seriously use a glass of something right now. Maybe. Probably not.

“If you don’t have somewhere to go. That’s your business.”

Square in the eye he looks at me again, and I’m not looking away either.

I slide my feet off the ottoman, scoot out my seat, and here he comes with me a little slower. Yup. We’re on the same page.

Besides the whole daydreaming-about-his-dick thing.

I don’t think that should be normal. But it kinda already feels normal.

As long as I stop blushing so damn much.

Point down the hall right from the kitchen’s threshold and say, “Dining room’s down there. It’s leftovers, so I’ll put it in the microwave, just be a few minutes.”

Out of the corner of my eye, he’s watching me a second. Then he slinks on over to the end of the hall. Lets me do my thing in here by myself. Grab a plate out from the fridge, pull the foil off, stir it some before heating it.

Fan my face with both hands. Breathe. Wipe my wrist over my forehead.

Get the quart of green tea out of the fridge while the food’s cooking, something cold to wash it down. Focus on the normal part of the day. Nothing weird about feeding yourself and a plus one.

Why can’t I remember his pendulum yesterday?

Like this… blank spot in my memory. I should have spotted it, light should have been glinting right off it out there. It’s a noticeable thing.

And why the hell did I make stir fry last night? Totally different subject. It’s just a really good question. Hot food in a heat wave?

Least I’m still eating healthy. Keep up on that this time.

Open the cabinet and push up onto my toes, grab the china down, a couple glasses. Pop the microwave open before it dings, scoop out two helpings. Get some silverware.

Consider for a longer moment what I’m feeding him.

I get some chicken substitute out of the fridge too, yes, add some protein to this dish.

Takes a minute carrying all this to the table, and I don’t say a word til I’ve sat down on the opposite side from my guest, him, hunched over in his chair, that nose hanging over his placemat. Over his plate.

He doesn’t even look as he takes his glass first, takes a sip, barely tilts his head back for it. Once he’s started, he just looks straight forward again. At me.

I’m staring back at him. Kinda feeling around for my fork. There it is.

 _Itadakimasu_ . _Bon appetit_. I’m cultured.

He takes a bite after I do, and he doesn’t even chew loudly. Can barely hear a crunch.

Is he gonna get hard under the table?

I’m not gonna look, I’m just thinking about it is all. Just following the pattern. Is he gonna get up halfway through for the bathroom, and that’s when I see he’s full steam again? Bouncing, throbbing, dripping?

It’s like I’m expecting a lot from him all of a sudden. Dudes just can’t go that often. I know.

But for real… is he getting hard under the table right now?

I kinda wanna hear it thump against the underside. I wanna hear it. Make my plate shake with the impact.

Kinda thing doesn’t really happen in real life, but that’d be… hot? Dammit. That’d be pretty hot.

He takes a bigger drink of his tea, and between that and his meal, I can’t tell what he thinks of it. Loves it, likes it, hates it, who knows. But he eats about the same pace I do.

Kinda eating automatically. I’m not paying attention to how fast I go.

He still hasn’t gotten up to go jack off.

But I can wait.

Until it’s whenever longer later, and it hasn’t happened, and our forks are both scraping the china for our last little bites.

Quicker lunch than I thought it’d be today.

I’m up out of my chair first, setting my plate over his, clanking the glasses on top of those.

“Can gargle in the, um… bathroom, if you want. I’m just gonna go rinse these real quick.”

Don’t even consciously mean to as my gaze darts toward his groin, and I can’t even see it at this angle. His chair is still pushed forward. Can’t tell what’s up.

He’s looking at me.

He saw me staring.

“I’ll grab us some more snacks….”

I go.

Dump the plates under the faucet’s stream and scrub. Blink a lot. Don’t even need to clean much, I’m chucking these in the dishwasher anyway. But my hands need to do something.

There’s the bathroom door creaking nearly shut again, I hear it over the water. If he takes more than a minute in there—I kinda wonder if he will. That’d be… never mind.

Dry my hands and get a couple vanilla sandwiches out of the freezer, and—

He’s already slinking back around the sofa, dumping himself back in his seat. Eyeballs on the screen. I guess. Can’t see his face from here.

I forgot to turn the T.V. off.

Guess it doesn’t matter.

Whatever.

Sink one knee back over the ottoman and slide back vaguely next to him, press myself into the corner.

Now I don’t know what I’m waiting for.

Nudge his shoulder with the wrapper.

“Yours.”

He looks my way, slowly takes the sandwich. And just holds it there still in my reach, just looking at me with it.

Guy, that isn’t the kind of wrapper I’m gonna tear off for you.

I just give him a look back.

He brings his other hand over, gets the idea, fumbles it open himself with all his thick fingers. I already unwrapped mine. Whatever channel we’re on has switched over from the drama block to sitcoms. Take one big bite and my teeth sink into cold sugar, and at this point I know my eyes just light up.

At the T.V.

Because commercials just came back on.

And I need to know.

No lying to myself that my breath’s caught in my throat, and I want it. Come on. Show me a pretty lady dancing around in expensive underwear, make me wanna buy that shit. Give us a show. Prove I need some of that underwear, make me a convert. Come on.

His eyes are back on the screen now too. He’s munching and he’s watching. Come on.

Ads for other shows on the network. Fuck off with that, you think I’m tuned in here because I’m invested in any your shows before seven p.m.?

Ad for a goddamn travel agency. Don’t even kid me. I’ll already be taking a sick day to be here for the A.C., I don’t have that time. And I’ve got a guest here with other interests. Come on.

Oh my god.

There she is. It’s really back on. Here it is.

He’s looking at her. I’m looking half at him, half at the T.V., making sure he doesn’t catch me peeping.

But looking at her, damn, yeah, she takes care of herself. Got those buttery smooth bronze legs, freshly shaved, and her bra’s pretty close to that one I got already, actually. Hell yes. Represent, lady.

My Hypno guest’s copping a look all he likes. I see him looking her up and down, his gaze shifting depending where the camera goes. He’s not subtle. Yeah, um, blatantly, he’s admiring all he likes.

Come on, guy. Come on.

Yes? You feeling it?

Oh my god.

 _Yes_ he is, what the hell.

Sitting there squinting at the screen with this look I’m still figuring out, and I see that flowery pink meat sneaking out from his crotch again, and come _on_ , can this guy really go this many times? For real? Not just kinda ready for another round, he’s getting _hard_ again.

I’m staring. Even if he catches me again… I don’t know how I could stop.

See those little nubs all around his tip bloat another second with a brand new throb, big and bouncy, that shaft getting thick again the longer it slides out…

Tugging my knees tighter against each other. Swallowing a lump down my throat, holding myself back from biting my lip. Kinda trying not to look—like exactly how I look. Just…

Shit, he’s getting ready. Doesn’t even look at me. One hand on the edge of the cushion, pulling himself off, gonna go flush his load down the toilet or something.

There’s a hand on his wrist all of a sudden, pausing him.

It’s, um, mine.

And now he gives me that look back. Stays on the sofa with me a second here.

“Don’t have to get up,” I tell him. Kinda whisper it.

I just…

I really wanna see.

“If you do it that often, you can just… stay here.”

I really wanna see this guy jack off. I wanna watch it.

“You’re a guest, so… I don’t mind.”

His dick throbs. And he sees me look right at it before I catch back up to his eye level.

I let him go.

And it takes him a second, he looks me deep in the eye, squints kinda slighter—but he scoots back in his seat.

And he doesn’t really look back to the T.V.

He does hand his ice cream my way, and I just sort of take it.

But he doesn’t really stop watching me.

I sit up a little straighter.

He really is a guest. Like that voice mostly in the back of my brain I’ve been listening to so far telling me that it’s the actual right thing to do, to make sure he feels very very welcome to keep up whatever his routine is here. Like as long as I’m still accepting him here, I’m accepting all of him. Feeling eighty-five percent at home is feeling _very_ at home, and I want that out of my guest.

He’s a pokemon. I’m in my right mind. I don’t wanna fuck him.

I just wanna watch him squirt his whole load while he’s fantasizing about how deep he’s got himself plowed into somebody.

He wraps one hand nice and thick around himself, and there’s just this feeling in my brain or maybe it’s my gut or somewhere that I am a good host. One hundred percent on that. Or like it’s a voice moving to the front of my brain telling me I’m a good girl for this.

Guess I really did get into some things back in school.

God I’m hot.

He stretches his fingers tight just underneath the tip, gives himself a real squeeze. Gives himself a slow, hard rub, slides his fist down, squeezes that slick skin taut for the couple inches he fondles. All the little nubs at the tip kinda get tugged back with him, and then he squeezes his fist back forward and his whole dick _throbs_ firm in his clutches, root to tip, like it’s not kidding around.

I can smell it now.

Faint scent of drying semen. Sweat. It’s kinda… hanging in the air now. I’m watching him stroke back and forth slow and steady, and it’s not really up to me whether or not I’m mostly breathing in the smell of his dick.

Breathing in his musk, I guess. Getting into my head.

God, I’m sweating.

First drop of his precum. Beading up at the slit in the middle of that flat tip, but growing wider, shiny, drooling lower under its own weight. Slipping down to the bottom of the ring of nubs, catching between a couple, and it glistens there. Kinda… pretty.

His fist rubs long and hard back toward it, and one fat fuzzy thumb swipes over it from above, stretching it back for lube. And now he’s wet. Tip oozing freely, and one hand jacking up and down and twisting a little bit back and forth, thumb and forefinger squeezed into a ring giving his girth near the tip some extra love, then slipping that pre back for layering on the sheen.

Been with some big guys before, couple of them bigger, but come _onnn_ , what’s with this one? Like some Hypno of all dudes has me enraptured. I am enraptured. Like I want the… privilege.

“I can, um…”

Huh?

“I could help. If you want. Take a turn, y’know? Since you… do it this often.”

Oh, right.

Really want to be a good host, so I’m saying that.

He hasn’t stopped looking me in the eye. But now that I’m looking back up at his, I can’t turn away from him. From his expression. He’s barely breathing heavier. I feel like I can’t blink.

Already squinting, but his gaze tightens on me.

Shivers all down my spine. Like now he’s really checking me out. Kinda… intimidating. In a good way?

His meaty fingers loosen, and way too slowly, he lifts his sticky hand away from his dick.

Looking at me.

I’m not just staring. Oh god. I’m leaning closer. Pulling my legs down, shifting onto my knees. Setting our snacks on the floor a second or whatever, hoping mostly this sweat doesn’t drip right off my chin.

Push my hand closer, kinda… hover my fingers around him, trying to take that plunge. Haven’t even grabbed him yet, but, um, my hands are way smaller than his. Like how they would be with a human kinda guy, most of them.

Can’t even explain to myself why I really _really_ like that.

I give him a squeeze.

God he’s hot.

Instantly my fingers are all sticky. His pre is warm all slimed across the shaft. I wrap my hand far as I can around him, and for _sure_ I can’t reach nearly as wide as he can. There’s one long twisted vein pumping directly under my fingertips and I swear it’s wider than the ones in my arm.

I need to put in extra effort than he would. I will. I wanna.

He’s counting on me now.

Press my smaller fist up gently toward the tip, start jacking him back and forth the same pace he was going, slow and steady, and there’s a low kinda huff out his nose. A snort. Blows across the back of my hand like a breeze, but it sends those shivers all the way back up my spine.

It’s one thing watching him stroke himself right in front of me, but it’s an  experience feeling his heartbeat pulsing through his dick while I’m tugging him tight as I can.

I don’t want to blink. My shirt is soaked. Kinda wanna toss it.

I won’t, though! I won’t.

All the rest of him fuzzy top to bottom, but right here, he’s just long and smooth. Little bit rough. Firm as hell. Some part of my brain still trying not to pay attention or admit it, but no, come on, this guy is built to go hard and fast. There’s no special pokemon kinda way this guy’s got to bone down. He just fucks. Don’t lie. Hands gripping somebody’s hips, pinning them over a table or somewhere, and whoever it is that gets it has to stop pretending they didn’t just scream out their own orgasm to the whole neighborhood while some Hypno’s got them deep dicked.

What?

Bitch, do _not_ think that.

Swear to god now it’s like somebody else is thinking for me.

He reaches one of those bigger hands over my wrist. It’s loose, but he’s holding me now, and I hold back a second here. Glance up at him and he’s still breathing a little faster, but he’s eyeing me up and down the whole way, taking me in, staying hard. Because he’s into human women, and, right… I’m not wearing a bra. Kinda poking through my shirt here.

“Too hard? Or slow? You want me to stop…?”

His meaty fingers wrap firmer over my wrist. Pulls me lower, pulls me back up. Directs me to keep going, and I keep going. But he doesn’t pull his hand away from me.

Just wants to touch me. My warmth under his hand, and his twitching drooling hot mess under mine.

He’s my guest. If touching me is getting him closer to shooting his spunk, emptying that next load, then he better.

My face is so hot. And all the rest of me. He throbs hard right under my fingers, and I have to swallow something back, but I just keep stroking him. Getting him closer. Tighter.

His hand firms back up over me and he pulls me one more time, slides me all the way up to his tip, keeps that firm hold on me while my fingers graze all those nubs. They’re just as soft as they look. Squishy, harmless, but just as hot as the rest of his dick.

I guess I just… rub my thumb over the slit, scoop fresh warm ooze back toward my hand. His grip loosens again, and I stroke back down his shaft, and here I am applying fresh lube. Still keeping an extra tight squeeze around his shaft between my thumb and forefinger, just how I’m more and more sure he likes it.

I’m learning. He’s teaching me. I’m gonna remember.

He’s all I can smell. The kinda mixture my brain won’t let me ignore. And all it can make me think of is just how much I’ll get when he blows the real deal—my whole nose clogged just with the smell of semen, thick, dense.

Like his dick’s taking up all my senses one by one.

Taste?

I guess he’d be into that, so… that’s not fucking him, we’ll see, maybe we’ll get there.

Where’s he going to blow? All over the floor? Not happening.

Maybe just my hand, and I can kinda catch it, or…

That’s not what’s important right now. Get there first, get him that fist-clenching teeth-gritting orgasm he needs. Get him there, then figure it out. Be the good host, the good girl.

Now he lets go of my wrist, and he takes my other hand. And while I’m still jacking him he bundles my palm over his glans.

Do I just hold it? Is he… is this how he wants to cum?

He just keeps a solid grip, squeezes my hand enough so I’m forced to squeeze on him, my palm kissing tight against the whole flat tip, over every single nub.

Got it. I squeeze him. I keep a tight grip on his crown in one hand and stroke him just right with the other, give his root a nice rub, keep him all slick and sweaty.

Two-handed job after all. No goofing around.

One more throb just as good as the last, and oh my god, the nubs bloat into my palm and _stick_. They bloat up to an airtight seal and I swear to god they suction to my wet skin.

Just another second or two or something before they all slim back down and let me go, but like...

When he cums, how long do they stick for? Like… be real, is this a mating thing?

This is a mating thing.

Thrust in to the very last inch and he bloats up, and come on, not _one drop_ escapes. Every single squirt, no spillage, exactly where he planned to dump it all along. Wherever he wanted to dump it.

I don’t need to think about that inside me.

It’s like there’s no way that can be me thinking about that, that’s not how I operate.

But I am thinking about it.

And he’s getting close to nutting. Every few breaths out his nose is a quick snort, getting to the edge. His knuckles are getting tight.

I don’t think it’s going to get easier not thinking about it after I’ve got a batch of hot fresh batter gunked all between my fingers, dripping down my wrist, clogging me up.

This was a bad idea. It was and it is.

I’m not stopping, though.

Somehow I really _really_ want to catch his load all over me. Feel the weight. See it myself.

My heart’s trying to pound out of my ribs right now. My breath is so shaky. From just a handjob, for real? Like I’m excited for him.

I just want him to cum really hard.

Come on.

His hips are twitching like he’s holding back from humping, and he’s rolling his head back over the seat, snorting, and his fat hand’s tugged tight above mine, making me hold on to the head. He’s rock hard.

Stroke back toward the tip with my other hand, give him an extra tight rub right there, back and forth, squeeze it out, come on.

His dick pulses. He twitches, snorts louder.

I’m staring.

I’m holding on. Rubbing, rub it out, _come on_.

He throbs. All the nubs flare up and suction to my hand, and I’m not going anywhere.

First shot squirts right into my palm with a force. Warm. Warmer than outside. Slathers over my naked skin sticky and dense—and I just swallow hard, can’t even think yet. One more shot, and I swear I _hear_ it—that little squelch, jizz squirting into more jizz.

Third shot, and um, my hand’s getting full. Can’t pull it away. Getting inseminated.

But his hand pulls away. Grabs back at my wrist, just grabbing for something to hold on to, keep himself steady.

Not even thinking about it consciously anymore as I keep rubbing the end of his rigid shaft, squeeze it all out hot and tight. Milk him. I think I’m blushing way too hard.

This much is his third ejaculation today.

Can’t really process it. This is a lot.

Still throbbing between my fingers, twitching. Bucking his hips a little, giving my hands a ride, grinding out another squirt, another two.

My hand is full. But he’s still creaming me. I can still feel the semen pooling up, drooling all over my skin, sticking.

One more gooey shot into my hand and the seal breaks.

It’s this loud sucking sound, this sloppy pop from the top edge of his freed bloated nubs, and an ivory shot of jizz squirts free straight out between my fingers, shooting and slopping down over the back of my hand.

Pokemon semen dribbling down between all my fingers now, dangling off the bottom of my hand and swinging free slick and beady, and I’m craning my neck over to watch it happen.

My neck is kinda sore…? My back is. Lot of leaning over for this. But I’m not complaining.

Now I can really smell it, truly. Kinda like… heavy like gasoline? Like love it or hate it, no in between, and I kinda really like it. That’s gonna stick in my skull a while.

No kidding, it’s wafting over my tongue. I can sort of taste it. That’s… really thick.

My Hypno guest huffs through his nose like he’s catching his breath, leaned way back over the sofa, face to the ceiling, and he lets go of me. Just another tiny shot of cream leaking out now while I rub the last of it out, make sure he’s spilled every drop.

Holy shit.

I jacked him off.

He came like a _geyser_. I was just fantasizing that would happen.

He shot this much semen on his third go in one day? On me? With my help?

I was fantasizing this would happen…?

Oh god, it’s dribbling.

Let go of his shaft and cup my other hand beneath his glans, catch more thick spill before it leaks onto the sectional or the floor, but holy shit this is a lot. This is a hell of a load. I can’t just—

God, that’s heavy in my nostrils. Can’t smell anything else.

His nubs come free from my skin all at once with another pop as they shrink, and careful careful careful I lower both my soaked, creamy hands underneath, pool up all the semen.

I just give him another minute here, let him drool a little longer. Let those last beady strings drip into me, not the cushion.

His dick’s not going soft yet.

Not doing anything, not throbbing anymore, but goddamn. And I’m just here on my knees beside him, catching his cum for him, burning up.

Think I might have really caught fire if the fan wasn’t still going through all this.

Now he’s just chilling in that same breeze, still resting his head back, not giving me a second look after he’s done. Breathing easier, and just about now, okay, he’s retracting. No more drooling.

Just… got to get to the sink next, I guess. Walk slowly.

Kinda have to elbow the handle up for the faucet to get running. And even with the water going, I’m letting his cum leak out from between my hands like… it just takes a second for it to want to spiral down the drain at all, even with the force of the water. Like it’s still resisting going anywhere, wants to stick around. It’s like washing away some oil. Taking work.

And I’m staring at it go.

Then, um, wash my hands with soap. Grab a paper towel.

That cold water really helped.

Wiping my hands on my way back to the sofa, wiping the sweat off my face, and probably I’m about to—

He’s asleep.

Guess he went all out after all. Eyes shut nice and gentle, and he’s snoring softly, breathing normal again. Lean a little farther over the back of my corner seat to get a look at him, and yeah, he’s retracted now.

And there’s the FUCKING ice cream I left on the floor all melted now.

Dump those in the trash and wipe that shit up.

But I guess he’s staying for a while. I’m on board. Hope he has a really good nap, wakes up all nice and refreshed for later.

And I…

I guess I’ll watch some T.V. for real for now. Keep in front of my fan with him.

Good plan.

 

 

Not exactly a power napper, turns out.

Two hours going at it, and this guy’s definitely feeling at home. Mission accomplished, apparently.

But at this point, god, I need a shower.

I should, yeah. He’s fine here, clearly.

Long as he’s not gone by the time I get out. Really want to make sure he knows he can stay the night if that’s what he wants. Make sure we’re still on the same page.

Scoot out from my seat for the third or however many times without jostling his, and I sneak upstairs to the guest bath, close the door behind me.

Get this damn shirt off already. Worry about a fresh outfit later.

Feel that cool water all over my skin finally. Can’t wash my hair today, got my shower cap on, doesn’t matter. Wash my face with cool clean water and I’m rejuvenated.

Wash my face, and now I’m kinda thinking again. Just standing here giving these events another thought, stream running down my back.

Mind control…?

I just…

I don’t really know what to think about that.

I don’t know if I really want to think about that.

Even if… it feels like I should? Like my gut telling me to go grab my phone again, pull that tab back up. Something I need to know.

But I don’t want to.

No, okay, think about it: how would that even work? I guess he’s a psychic kinda pokemon, that sounds right. Wouldn’t I feel myself fighting for control with him or something? And I’m not fighting, so… I still feel myself here, doing what I’m doing.

I’m just trying to help him out, kinda. Don’t think “being a good host” would get by as an excuse on someone else, but it still sounds right to me.

Kinda getting a lot too hot and bothered around him now, maybe.

But at this point, that has to be natural. Pokemon or not, I was jacking off a dude. My brain’s in fuck mode.

Damn. That’s what I wanna think about.

Or not.

Really don’t want to masturbate thinking about a pokemon doing me right, so let’s not. Nah. Let’s don’t.

Just lather and rinse. Clean up.

Find some porn later tonight that gets me in the right kinda mood, the right train of thought. Something where nobody talks, ruins it all.

Where’s my—

Are they out of clean towels in here?

Kill me.

Shivering for the first time today running around for something to dry off with while I’m dripping wet in the wrong way, but at least no guests are waiting in the hall up here to peep on me naked.

Well…

Decide later if I’m disappointed or not.

Pull a shirt back over my head, check myself in the mirror in my guest bedroom. Fresh again. No frizzies in my twists, still looking good.

Couple frizzies. Fix those before bed.

Would it be weird if I just didn’t wear any shorts downstairs?

Just my regular underwear, not my sexy pair.

Maybe that could be totally normal. Still hot in here, already goddamn sweating again. Got no reason to think he’d mind, wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. Might help him get hard one more time tonight.

Damn. That’d be something.

Wouldn’t surprise me anymore though.

It’s my place right now anyway, basically, so him being a guest goes both ways—I get to walk around a little more naked if that’s what I want, and those are just the rules. He’s just got to deal.

I better go check on him. See if he’s up, make sure he hasn’t left.

Make sure he feels well attended.

Come back downstairs quietly again just in case, hand trailing down the rail at my side, and I’m already peeking around to check when I’m down far enough.

Still asleep. Leaning back in the same place I left him, maybe snoring, and the T.V.’s back on to some news segment.

Guess he got a lot out of his system today, lucky guy.

God I hope he stays the night.

Huh?

I mean if he wants to. Might have somewhere he’s got to get going, that’s life, I know, I know.

Really glad he’s in no hurry.

Make my way over and lean over the back of the sofa beside him, getting my face back in on this fan…

Yeah. Kinda like the look of his sleeping face, too. Two hours I got a look at it, but it’s still… my kinda face? His bags look bigger with his eyes closed. Peaceful. Like he’s got to collect all that energy again that he needs for his intensity.

He was never exactly cute, was he? I’d get weird looks if I called him cute. But he’s all right.

But like…

Why didn’t I notice that pendulum the first time?

For real.

If he was this tired, he won’t mind me getting a better look at it right now, try to jog my—

Oh shit.

He’s awake.

He’s awake and grabbing my wrist and looking right back at me in my face. Didn’t even touch the thing yet, two inches out of reach, my fingers outstretched.

Light sleeper, I guess.

I don’t know how long he doesn’t blink. Or how long I don’t.

My shirt was already draped pretty low under my neckline, and now it’s kinda hanging really loose while I’m leaned in toward him like this.

He doesn’t let go, but I don’t pull away.

“Got any left?” I say. “That you want to, um… get out?”

Huh?

No, crashing here, I was just going to ask if he—I didn’t—shit.

I guess that wasn’t what I was going to say.

I didn’t think I was thinking about his dick again.

“I’ll help, if you want some more help.”

Kinda not looking him in the eye right now. Somewhere lower. I’m definitely thinking about his dick again. And I know he sees me, but now I’m just…

Not like he can answer. But I look back into that squint, and those eyes are seriously intense.

And I feel like I get the answer he’s giving.

Two talking heads on the T.V. in suits, no commercial handy to help out my guest, but I push back off the back of the sofa, and I come around the side.

I don’t sit in the corner piece.

I’m finding a soft landing on the hardwood, on my knees, between his.

Fan’s not quite blowing on me, but I can handle sweating down here for now. Right here, um—I guess I don’t mind.

Really wanna make sure he doesn’t have to go anywhere without getting himself nice and empty first, if he does have to go anywhere.

Just one more time. This guy’s got it in him. I see that look in his eyes, and—wow.

He looks a lot bigger from down here. Like… all of him.

I feel seriously small right now. He’s got leverage. Lot of opportunity over me.

Snake my hands up between his thighs, make myself a little cozier in this heatbox, and I just want to make sure he knows I’ll take care of him.

“Lemme know how I’m doing, okay?”

Stare straight up into those big, slimmed eyes, and I could look into those for a long time from where he’s got me.

“Make sure it’s good for you, do what you need….”

Not really sure if I’m mumbling to him or to me.

But there’s a deep pink crown nudging out right in front of my face right now, dragging out over the cushion, and I’ve definitely got another big workload to get to.

Four times.

This guy is unstoppable.

The thought breezes by me of giving a kiss, but… I just brush my fingers over the glans on its way closer toward me, slick and smooth and musky. My nose is already twitching, for sure. Just give him a little squeeze right past the nubs, coax him out longer. Make sure he’s comfortable.

He snorts, scootches closer. Angles his knees wider around me and pushes closer up his seat, dangles his full erection just an inch away from my face, and he gives me all the space I need to work with here. He’s comfortable. Truly.

Kinda points his groin higher in the motion, too, gives me a better angle at his undercarriage so I can get some work in on his—

Oh shit.

Yeah, there they are. His balls.

Not totally big, not huge, actually. Maybe a little above average sort of package. Bulging some, definitely, pretty sure I can tell they’ve still got some juice packed away, and they’re wrinkly and fuzzy and wiry, like all the scraggly hair on them is short but thick. But it doesn’t look like they really dangle, so they’re tucked away pretty close below his dick, totally hidden for anybody who’s not already in a good position for deepthroating him.

Not that that’s the plan right here.

I’m just doing my part to get him some more relief. This is just another favor.

So I wrap one hand a little farther down, rub him toward his root, and he bobs hard and wet. _Really_ good view of his twitching from here, won’t lie. My other hand, I reach a little lower down and give his sac some tender affection, make sure he’s churned up nice and holy SHIT.

These are _heavy_. What the fuck? He’s fucking packed.

Pretty sure I’m gawking at his balls right now while he’s watching. Fondling them both in the palm of my hand, all the wiry fur scratching at my skin like it wants to leave a hickey, and oh my god, no wonder he’s got so many loads to blow. Holy shit. He must get backed up all the time, these are _dense_. I swear to god I can feel the sperm squirming around in here.

Not really. Obviously. But this is _real_.

I’m really actually doing him a favor. He needs to bust a nut again tonight, no question, I’m doing this. It’s not up for debate.

Firm up the fist I’ve got around his root, and start stroking for real now, give him a tight grip. Caress him way gentler on his sac, squeezing slower and softer, encourage one last load extra thick out of him.

Come on, boys. He needs an eruption. Bubble that cream to the surface.

And my handie’s got him bobbing in a really good rhythm. Feels like my mouth should be dryer than it really is. Like he’s just waving his scent up and down in front of me, and I know he’s got a good look at how close I’m watching his exact motion.

At the rate I’m going, starting to feel like it’d be kinda rude not to at least give him a kiss.

Just to make him feel extra welcome. Just so he’s got that extra thick load out tonight.

Stroke him wider now, back to front, front to back, tugging loose skin and tight veins under my fingers whichever way I go. Little pre dribbling out the tip, shiny and clear, and… god that’s pretty.

Watching it slip down the glans while I’m jacking him, throbbing. Don’t know why I’m transfixed. Slipping down to the nubs, catching between the bottom two while they’re bloated. Dangling off the edge now, shaking and swinging, beady and crystal clear—

And it splats onto my cheek.

Warm string of pre beaded between my face and his dick, whole strand shimmering in the corner of my eye, connecting us. And I’m okay with that?

I mean, yeah. My hands are both busy on his junk, I’m not just going to take a break and wipe it off.

Just… scoop my thumb back over the tip, scoop his slick pre back with me. Right, get him lubed. The string pops halfway back down his shaft and recoils down my jaw like a snapped rubber band, just leaving a long thin gooey strand down my skin.

It’s really warm.

Kinda makes me feel like I’m doing a really good job.

One meaty, fuzzy hand touches down on my head, and his other on my wrist again. Look back up at him, and he snorts, breathing heavy down at me.

“Good?” I say, beneath him.

Just because I’m pretty sure he loves the view.

“Just let it all out whenever you’re ready,” I say. “I can, um—”

Shit.

Where was I planning on catching on all this again?

“Um.”

Either he splashes all over my face, or I’m gargling Hypno cum before I make it back to the sink.

And I just took a shower, for whatever good it did.

So I close the distance and just give him a kiss, let that say it for me.

And now my mouth’s been on his dick, and I can’t just pretend I didn’t just do that. But if he’s blowing in my mouth this time, guess that’s just got to be a normal thing I have to get used to right now.

He’s really wet on the tip. I pull back and there’s another string dangling between my lips and his slit, drooling it out thicker like now he’s got to be building up extra to shoot into my cheeks.

His balls are tensing. Pretty sure we’re getting close to his happy ending now.

God, my hand working his balls is the sweatiest part of my body right now. I’m dripping. He’s dripping down me. Heavy as hell.

Even if he can go again after all this, this is definitely it for now. His dick has got to be going raw. Even this kinda guy needs a break.

“Whenever you’re ready. I’ll catch it, don’t worry.”

The pre tugging on my lip vibrates through the whisper, but it doesn’t break. Feel the other strand stuck on my cheek like it’s got nowhere to be in a hurry. It’s _really_ warm.

One more snort from up top, and his hand on my head clenches just above my temple, just holding on. Not messing with my hair, which, good. His other hand keeps shifting between either of my wrists, just looking for somewhere on me in reach to keep touching.

I’m calm, I swear, but my heart is going wild again without me.

He throbs. He really throbs, snorts. His balls are twitching, swirling around thick and hot inside for sure. His hips rock a little, holding back from humping something.

Oh hell. I’m opening my mouth. Giving him one last kiss, the one that matters—

He grabs my head with both hands and pulls me back, not forward.

My fist wrapped around the middle of his shaft gives me the first and only warning as he throbs rigid and deep, and I’ve got about half a second to close my eyes before the first shot squirts hard and wet over my mouth and cheeks.

Splashes over my eyelids.

Drenches my face.

Next squirt comes less than a second after, and I’m just… apparently I’m kneeling here braced for a faceful of cum, getting splattered.

Another heavy snort somewhere above me, fat fuzzy thumbs holding on tight by my forehead, and I get a thick shot right on my lips, coating me in semen.

Can’t see it coming. I can only smell it. My hand’s going automatic back near his tip, rubbing him out slower and gentler, but every next little squirt is a surprise wherever it lands, and it’s already running down my neck.

No way do I try pulling out of his grip.

A whole glob of his jizz drips down off my jaw, and okay, his cum is now on my breasts. Under and over my shirt.

Guess he took “catch it” a different way.

But I did him right, apparently. Got a pretty good handle on his entire package now.

One more rope spurting over my nose, dripping and gooping, and he’s _really_ all I can smell this time.

Kinda tough breathing through my nose, so… I just open my mouth a little, breathe deep. A little glob trickles over my tongue, and I don’t know if it’s instinctive or on purpose that I roll it into my cheeks and swallow. Hard. Takes some effort even with the buildup of my own drool.

It’s _sour_. Not bitter.

And it doesn’t feel like I’m choking on battery acid like with my last ex who ate nothing but pizza.

And I really love sour.

Kinda listening attentively to that voice in my brain while it’s telling me that blowjobs are now on the menu.

Kinda really nice to remember I have a fun voice like this after six years of university.

Few more strokes around the crown getting the last short ropes squirting over my face, and I give his balls a sweaty squeeze goodbye before dragging my hand out from underneath.

Yeah. _Thick_ load. Hot layer of semen that’s burning me up all over.

“You can crash here tonight, if you want….”

This exact moment I remember to tell him.

He’s really got to be enjoying the view now, not that I can see. That’s a scene just for him.

Did I just cross a line?

Not even the facial—truly, also the facial—but swallowing pokemon cum.

I’d rather keep thinking that I’m just being a fantastic host. Poor guy’s got buckets to blow, and I don’t want him getting pent up while I’m the one looking out for him. We’re not boning down.

Something about this is still kinda weird, but… not bad. Gut still won’t shut up with this nagging feeling, but I think I’ve got a better sense higher up to listen to right now.

But this has got to be it for today. For his dick’s sake.

Wipe the cum off my eyelids with my slick, sweaty fingers, and I open my eyes very carefully. All good. And my first glance is straight up, just to get a look back at him.

He’s slouched back deep into the cushion, staring at the ceiling, chest rolling for every deep breath he takes.

Guess he’s probably okay calling cut for today, too.

I’ve got to, um… wash up. Change shirts.

Wipe up the floor again.

Check my hair.

Grab a dry pair of underwear, too.

Don’t think I’m going to shower again today. Kinda… let the scent linger on me. Let me smell it the rest of the night, kinda daydream. Forget about everything else. Doesn’t really matter.

God it’s hot.


	2. Chapter 2

Shit that’s bright.

God, my neck.

Fell asleep on the sofa…? Damn.

Blurry morning sunlight pouring right into my bleary eyeballs even from around the curtains, and I take a grunt or deep breath or whichever. Stretch my feet, my wrists. My neck.

Close my eyes….

Groan. Rub my eyes. Open.

T.V.’s still on, something in another language. Which show’d I doze off to? Whatever. It’s still hot as hell. Need to change my shirt. Why am I even wearing a shirt…?

There’s a Hypno sleeping next to me.

Oh, right.

Yesterday.

He’s still sunk over the middle of the sectional, knees sprawled either way out, chest rising and falling nice and gentle. Got that peaceful look back in the bags under his eyes.

Holy shit.

Yesterday.

I got _horny_.

I don’t know if I’m really the one I remember doing that for him. That was wild. That wasn’t me, right?

I’m staring at him.

Part of my brain still waking up, but now I’m thinking about what the hell happened: not a lot, but what did happen, a _lot_ happened of. And fast.

And I’ve definitely got a lot to figure out, but there’s one part of it all somehow jumping ahead of all the rest right now. Just a thought. Something else weird I remember.

So my fingers kinda drift toward that pendulum resting over his neck fluff.

Halfway toward just touching it and his eyes shoot open, looking straight back into mine. He doesn’t need to grab me—my hand freezes.

Holy shit he’s intense.

I’m awake now.

I’m awake.

My limp hand hanging between us, my wrinkled shirt loose off one shoulder, but it feels like my eyes just got all their energy back. Revived and awake.

Why the hell didn’t I put my shorts back on yesterday?

I should say something.

“Breakfast,” I tell him.

Nailed it.

Next few minutes I’m in the kitchen cutting up fruit and scrambling some eggs. No dumping cereal down my throat today. Healthy, healthy, healthy. For me and my guest.

For real, how long is he staying again?

Not even thinking about it when I pause a second, close my eyes, take a long sniff of empty air.

Still smell him on me.

This heat is getting to me, I swear to god. Melting my brain.

Bring a couple full plates to the table while the eggs are still steaming hot and fresh, and they’ll cool down pretty quick, and at least it’s nice feeling like a chef right here, my guest watching the food come his way the whole time while I lower his plate onto his placemat.

He can’t say “thank you,” so no hard feelings when he doesn’t give the chef his compliments. But him grabbing his fork already and digging in tells me what he’s thinking.

Feels like I’m better off not thinking.

Sit down and take my fork, too, while he’s taking his first bite. But I guess I’m thinking anyway.

“I need a shower,” I say.

Trying to tell myself not to say it, but now I’m thinking about it, and I feel like I’m about to say it anyway—

“You need a shower?”

Bite my lip. Should have bit my tongue. Stir my eggs around on my plate, and it takes me a second to glance up.

He’s already looking at me. While he chews. Slouched forward in his seat, looming, squinting but still boring back into my eyes with his.

And now I’m staring.

Feels like he’s already got a handle on me, too.

 

 

First of all it is amazing getting this shirt off my body, would recommend, it’s stellar, my sweat-soaked skin thanks me very much, much appreciated.

Second of all, my gut’s telling me that it’s more than a little weird stripping in front of some dude I don’t know when he’s not about to plow me. Like… yeah, I’ve got to hand it to me, this is weird.

But it’s not like I was going to put on a bathing suit for this. Come on. It’s hot, I’m soaked, obviously this is going to be a whole naked thing.

And I’ve got to take care of my guest. Like… take care of him.

Not even ten o’clock yet and my brain’s locked in on dick. My stomach’s in knots and I don’t totally know what I’m doing.

But seriously, come on, I understand that if I really feel uncomfortable, I can just stop things here and that’s not leading him on or cockteasing him, that’s just me being equally concerned about how I feel about this.

And yet I’m not stopping things here.

Voice in my brain telling me through my simplest vocabulary that things are not stopping here.

My guest’s got nothing to strip, and he hasn’t moved to take off the pendulum, so he just watches and waits for me by the shower stall, plenty of room for two in there.

And he’s already getting hard.

Like, _hard_.

Maybe my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me yesterday, apparently. Wow.

Telling myself to stop thinking _wow_ so goddamn much looking at that thing.

He’s not looking me in the eye either, though. Or at my face.

Guess my titties are his type, too.

Drop my shirt in the corner, and, um… he’s not the first guy who’s seen me naked, so just—pull my underwear down my thighs. Been a couple days since I shaved my legs, and I’m not planning on taking the time now, but it’s above that I get new guys judging me for sometimes.

This bright-eyed cartoon Pikachu inked into my right hip. I love Pikachu. And now we’re attached at the hip. It’s cute.

Didn’t even watch that show when I was a kid. But the merchandising got me.

But I’m showing off that skin bright and clear now, in plain sight, so this is just the regular kinda god-my-cheeks-are-red I’ve got on my face, nothing extra.

Hold myself steady with one hand on the counter, step out of my underwear one leg at a time while I peek back up at him.

Throbbing. Deep flowery pink with that vein ready to pop, rock hard, no hesitation.

He’s not distracted.

I’ve got an equally keen understanding of just how bad those balls need draining.

Stand up straight again, and his gaze follows me. Reach for my shower cap hanging beside the mirror, clap the elastic above my ears, and, um…

He’s still looking at my tits. Clenching his meaty fingers at his sides, making slow-motion grabby hands.

I’m not totally upset with that. Or, um, at all.

My nipples are kinda getting the same way as him.

Guess I’m still kinda really horny.

In a minute more, I just mutter, “Damn.”

Quiet hiss as the pipes in the wall pump alive, and the water’s already fresh and cool when it hits splashdown over us from the spout.

“Feels _really_ good.”

Got me standing right beneath the spout, and got him right behind, hands rubbing up my ribs, down my hips, like getting a feel for where’s the best grip.

Not like he’s lining up, god—just… touching. He likes to touch.

His dick keeps poking my thighs, though.

And that’s just reminding me what I’m really, actually doing here.

Turn around with the body wash in one hand, and I lather him up. First time I see him close his eyes without dozing off, and I scrub between these big fuzzy ears he’s got all the way up top. Messy. Sweaty. I guess that’s both of us.

So he kinda kneads me blindly now. My breasts. His grip is way rough, really fuzzy, probably ticklish if he were gentler, but even if it’s not what he’s thinking about he’s got me heating up in a kinda way that doesn’t hurt.

I’m just biting my lip, and he just… likes to touch.

Scoot around and switch places, and he’s under the spout to rinse. I’m out of the splash, still in the spray, but I don’t lather up yet.

Very gently, I kneel.

Pull my red face down right next to his dick, wagging halfway over my shoulder. Feel like this should have taken more hesitating, or I should be telling myself not to, but…

“ _UM_.”

Bitch, again with the volume.

Got both his hands around his fluffy neckpiece and makeshift necklace, rinsing all that, and he squints back down at me with a twitch in his dick that taps my bare skin hello in its recoil.

Swallow back the crack in my voice, and I ask him, “So, um… swallow it, or wear it?”

Right. That.

Never gets totally easier, the first time doing things with a new guy. My stomach’s tangled up. This guy, feels kinda like the first time all over again.

I say, “Don’t have to decide now. I’ll just….”

Yeah, I’ll just be down here, wrapping my head around sucking off a pokemon.

He keeps rinsing, massaging himself way higher up, but I guess the water’s not really in his eyes if he can keep this close a watch on me.

That’s okay. This is his to watch. That’s the point.

Place one of my hands on his shaft, wrapping the base right by his pouch, and I hold his big flat tip steady against my shoulder. Turn toward it, give him a kiss right on stained, scented skin. That musk is getting wild on me already.

Not totally like the first time, I mean. I still know exactly how to give him a sloppy blowjob. Can get all kinds of messy while we’re in here.

Kinda thinking about just how messy he’s gonna get on me. Or in me.

Letting some part of me that kinda _wants_ this take over right now. I just… really want him to feel right.

His bulk is shielding my face from most of the water anyway, so it’s not like he’s not doing me a favor, too.

So I give him a streak of kisses all along the shaft, make sure every inch gets some immediate love. Make sure he feels appreciated all over. Still building up the spit in my cheeks, but it’s pooling up. Swish it around a little, make sure I’m wet and comfy in here. More little kisses first, though, getting deeper down him, reminding my taste buds of all the slick leftovers from yesterday.

The balls. Those guys need some love too.

Swipe my fingers up over his glans, and I kinda interlock with all the nubs throbbing and bloating around the rim, give those a squeeze to welcome them back. Reintroduce myself.

Got to steady my other hand over the floor in here to lean far enough down for more.

Slide my cheek right against his long, slick underside right to the pouch, and I’m marking my face with some leftover ooze the whole way. Slide my way to dunking my nose right between his wrinkly, furry balls, poking their seam, and—wow, wow.

Turns out I’m really on board with this smell. Vote of confidence. Feel like taking a picture of this plate before getting my first taste.

Nah.

I’m way too busy to play around.

Swab my tongue in my drool again for good measure and give these packed fuzzy monsters a lick, lap them up against my lips, give them sweet little doggie kisses.

Little, except it takes some serious lapping action to draw them any closer to my mouth. They’re so heavy.

No problem. I love doggie kisses. It’s like begging his jizz to come out and play. All over me, inside me. Whichever playground we’re in the mood for.

Loud snort from above me, and I’m not the only one who loves it.

My drool’s sticking and hanging from his balls over most of my jaw by now, so I’ve got him slobbered pretty right. Catch a breath, I’m panting….

Then pucker up, slobber a human kinda kiss on these guys. Wide and warm.

Then say _ahhh_ , like saying hello to his junk a lot closer, and, wait… will they still—?

I think I can—

Oh hell yes.

Got both of them.

Got this feeling swelling up in my ribs that might be pride, might not, I really shouldn’t say, and I’ve got both his thick scraggly balls gobbled up in my mouth, muffling and slopping up the breaths out the corners of my lips. The stream of water’s catching on my cheek from here, pooling down off my chin—so we’ve got it cool and fresh outside, hot and steamy inside.

I can taste the musk. What do I call this but _strong_? My brain’s coming up with the word _virile_ , and hell, I need to stop.

Obviously I’m not going to stop.

Okay, little tacky, maybe way too much, but I’ve got to try:

“ _Hehy_ … ah’ I ghoin’ goohg?”

Can’t see if his expression changes at all, can’t even see a thumbs-up or something, but at least he can’t see me blushing again after gargling out a line like that with his sac twitching in my stretched cheeks.

He throbs and bloats in my hand, bubbles some thick pre right down my palm. I’ll take that as a high five, nice one.

Just keep licking back and forth on the squirmy, scratchy backside of his sac. Just want to give this part of him a seat for a minute here, let these heavy boys rest their weary sperm. With a massage. Keep swishing the spit around and get that musk working like mouthwash, give him a warm bath.

He’s done rinsing himself before I am, I guess. He’s got his hands free.

One hand comes back down on the back of my head, big and meaty, stroking just behind my ear with one fat wet finger, and okay, he got me, I do feel appreciated now.

Other hand comes back to my wrist, guiding me back into stroking his dick slow and long and tight—right. I kinda zoned out on that one.

Wait a minute.

Why would I ever just swallow his jizz in the shower? In the shower. Come on.

Kinda stretches my lips wider a second when I pop his balls back out, and they tickle me goodbye as they go, but I’ve got to take another second to gasp, catch another real breath. Half my chin washed clean in the stream, but I still feel all the spit globbed down my other half. I see it right in front of me, webbed up slimy and warm over every inch of his sac, the strands hanging between us already snapping under their own weight.

Yeah, I’m doing good.

But I know exactly how this guy wants to blow his load. And I can get sloppier.

Pull back out from under his junk while I’m still rubbing him with my other hand, breathing harder, not swallowing anything just yet.

And—something’s still scratching my tongue, tangled and kinky. _Mmnuh_.

Stray pube. Slurped it right off him. It can just… I should mind, but I don’t right now, so it can scratch the tip of my tongue for any more dirty talk I could come up with. He likes that, right?

Yeah?

He’s still watching me.

Squinting down at me. Snatching my gaze from wherever else I could be looking, more like.

He lets go of me. Almost don’t notice his hands pulling silent back to his sides. Can’t help but stare up at him a minute here.

Huh?

Right. He’s got a load waiting to get splattered all over my face.

And I can get more than just a little in my mouth this time. I want both. Wear it and drink it.

Knees are getting rough in this stall, but I can stay down here longer, it’ll be worth it. Just straighten up some, push my wrists up beside my breasts, edge forward a little farther on my knees until I can wiggle around him—there we go, like a good girl.

This guy wants to blow his load between my tits wrapped around him, no question.

Actually, um… I’m seriously the perfect height for this. Or he is. Yeah, he’s a perfect fit. Pulsing just about right over my heart, and for how tight I’ve got him squeezed in between my breasts, I swear my heartbeat’s synchronizing with his.

Swish it around again, and now I’ve got some really good use for all my musk-flavored drool. Get me extra squishy for him. Little shower spray still leaking past him to me, but I don’t think this will take too long before my extra lube’s washed away.

So I pucker my lips and drool a bubbled, thick rope of spit down my sternum, let it pool and leak around his wide flat tip poking out from between me, really lube him—and he throbs.

I feel that. Oh my god.

I’ve had guys here before, I don’t know why it’s a big deal all over again.

Probably that he’s a pokemon.

Probably I need to stop judging. Right here, he’s my guest. That’s what matters.

One more snort and his hands come around my shoulders, just bracing himself. Just touching. But I’m not the one who has to start moving.

He holds on tight to me, and the first jiggle I get is his balls smacking wet against the bottom of my breasts with his first thrust.

Oh god. Wet and loud. Actually really noisy, no way for anywhere in my brain to pretend he’s not seriously deep dicking my tits.

Got a lot of power in his thrusts.

He goes at me hard right from the start, thrusting and smacking like he knows I don’t need a warmup, and he’s already way warmed up. Steady pace, and he’s plowing. And I’m just kneeling here, paying more attention to his dick again than his face, experiencing this nubby monster thrusting up and down my breasts while I’m the one making sure to keep them tight and slippery for him.

Just like I thought, yeah, those nubs just squish out of the way down my breasts on every withdrawal before he fucks back toward my face, and I get the full feeling of squishing those little nubs as tight as I can.

His fat furry groin brushes hard over my nipples while he’s at it. Rubs me. I’m clenching my teeth and it’s really _really_ not helping the rest of me calm down.

He slows his thrusts once or twice, smacks back up to speed even faster for another couple, alternates and throbs big without warning. Something in his lucky imagination keeping him humping at me like a metronome broken in all the right places.

It doesn’t even feel like a human kinda guy going at me. Something about this guy’s pace, or huge sense of quiet, or the furred meaty hands holding me in place against his hunched-over boning, it’s seriously more like someone primal using me to get their rocks off.

Is that prejudiced? I’m not judging. It’s just…

Just getting really hot in my face. Kinda watching and waiting for the finale, bearing through him rubbing my breasts in all the right ways, and that’s what I’m here for.

Kinda like this show.

Really did plan a blowjob in here. Sure, I don’t actually owe him anything, but I _definitely_ still owe sucking him off loud and deep later, no argument from me. As long as he wants to hang out, I’ll hang out with him. Below him.

Cool water splashing down all around me, but I’ve never felt something this warm against my skin before. His skin’s lubed up just as smooth as mine, no friction, just hard and hot and he keeps bucking me _forward_ a little every time he bottoms out, kinda like… rutting?

Seriously feels like he’s probably imagining me bent over and pinned down right now.

Not that I’m going to interrupt his fantasies, if that’s what he’s got going for him. I’ll just… be here, squeezing my tits together for him to plow.

He’s seriously throbbing. Should probably, um… close my eyes.

Open my mouth.

Stick out my tongue. Down, like, at him.

One hand moves to the back of my head again, way firmer, getting his grip, pushing my face an inch closer to the action. Little beads of pre and spit are splashing back on my face from the motion of his thrusts.

I know I’ll flinch when it happens, but I’m ready. Come on. You need to blow, come on. And I need a fresh new coat of cream. Truly. Gimme.

Twitching between my titties and my chest is so hot from his dick it’s gonna explode and I’m gonna die.

Come on. Cum. Gimme. Give me.

Twitching thick now, throbbing, yes, come on—

Ah.

Mm.

Mm, there you go. Gimme. Nice thick facial, extra creamy, let it all out. I want it in my mouth, gimme another rope—mmm.

Even over the shower I can hear it coming. Squirting onto me. Gooey spurts onto my jaw, my neck, rolling down my breasts.

Thick smell. Shooting semen over all my senses, hot cum running down the side of my nose, leaking right under my nostrils. I’m clenching my knees together. He’s got a _lot_.

He smacks home two more rough thrusts, all the wet bloated nubs stroking me hard but sticking to empty air, and he makes sure my titties stroke him empty before he’s done with me. _Mm_ —one more spurt straight onto my tongue. Perfect shot.

I’m panting.

Just keep my mouth open wide until he’s done. Get a mouthful. A real one.

Jizz oozing down my ribs and mixing with the trails of water, but I can feel nothing’s washing it away yet. It’s sticking to me. Thick like molasses.

Virile, huh?

I believe it.

One last fuzzy thump against my underside, just stroking himself out, and that’s a shorter rope or two shooting over my face next. Wrapping up.

Wrap my lips back together, pucker up—just wanna taste this a second, not ready to swallow yet.

God. I _love_ sour.

He snorts above me, and I feel like that’s his thank you. But he’s still got the grip on me. Making sure I keep him squeezed nice and warm a minute longer. Making sure I finish what I just started? I can do that.

Feels kinda like a challenge draining his cum down my gullet, this much. Tilt my head back, and he’s still holding onto it from behind…

Gulp it all down.

Wow.

Really hope he likes however that looked, because we’ve really _really_ got to do this again sometime. Feel like I’m the one should be saying thank you.

But yeah, I’m doing good with it. Kinda really glad I get the chance to.

He lets me go again, but his dick isn’t pulling back just yet, so I don’t let go from squeezing until it’s really ready to say goodbye for now.

Damn. Still need to get me cleaned up after this.

Feel him touching my face next.

Fingers—thumbs—probing flat against both my eyes together, and whatever the hell is happening, I just flinch, just—don’t move.

But he’s careful.

Careful and firm, he draws the fat balls of his thumbs over my eyelids, swabs away the wet homemade mess.

Fucks with my nerves, but he’s really gentle.

Blink back open slowly, just as careful… and his face is the first thing I see, ring of water cascading from behind him in his slouch.

Not even breathing hard anymore, unlike me. Totally in control. Watching.

Snorts one more time though, twitches down here.

Guess he’s a morning person.

I know I’m staring again.

“Um…”

Swallow again, get my throat in order. Pause. Let one arm go from keeping him hugged between me, open my mouth, and scrape a finger over the tip of my tongue. Drag his scratchy little hair off under my nail.

Something I was going to say….

“Feeling better now?”

Right, thank you, that.

Doesn’t say it, but I do get the impression from that easy squint that he’s feeling better now.

He pulls a hand back to my wrist. Pulls up, helps me back to my feet in here. _God_ my knees. Still worth it, but ouch.

Feel like I really kept my calm this time, I think. For most of it. Got myself a little under control this morning compared to yesterday.

Oh my god, he can stick around today too, right? Nowhere to go? God I hope.

I guess we’ll see.

We’re not going again in here, but he definitely gets some more fondling in before I’m lathered up and rinsed off, too. Kept my calm, maybe, but I’m not really keeping calm. Kinda hard to when he’s keeping my breasts… peaked.

Getting kinda glad he likes to touch.

 

 

Channel hopping.

It’s going all right.

Doesn’t really matter what we watch, but mostly I’m looking for something I won’t get invested in. Just something to pass the time.

I just get the feeling he’s stewing up another dire load already. And that I’m not—not _exactly_ against being the one to take it all, wherever he’s got a preference for.

But he’s still got to pace himself. Can’t just keep going forever.

Even if he can keep going forever, come on, not doing anybody any favors actually rubbing himself raw, messing his dick up.

I’ve got to pace him.

Shift one knee over the other in front of me, pretend I don’t, um… immediately feel just how damp I’ve been getting.

But it’s a no-shorts kinda day in. Even if he might be able to spot my state for himself at the right angle, that’s just the cost of staying a little cooler today.

Set the remote down a second and scoot my cushion closer back up against the sofa—I picked my hangout spot on the floor today, right in the corner between the ottoman and the rest of the sectional. Right next to the big dangled legs of my guest, back in his middle seat.

Just a change of pace. For how much sweat I’ve been soaking into the upholstery, I’m just giving my seat a chance to air out. That kinda thing. Change of pace.

Just a cushion to keep my butt comfy, and I’m good down here.

So, flip through a sitcom, infomercial, same infomercial on a different channel, crusty old crime drama—and a weather report.

No change in forecast. We’re still in it, and we’re not getting out any sooner.

But the anchors are good enough at talking about nothing new that I can leave the T.V. on here for now.

Wrap my hands together around my thighs, and I bounce my dangled foot in the air. Slouched pretty deep down here.

Someday I can let my twists down from this bun again. Someday. That’ll be nice.

God it’s hot.

The fan’s mostly on my guest, but I’ve got a breeze passing by my face and knees. I’m good. Can’t totally see how he’s doing from down here, but as long as I don’t hear him jacking off without me, I guess he’s doing good.

Just kinda waiting for something to happen. Just waiting for whatever happens next.

Did I leave my phone over here?

Grope around on the ottoman, probably somewhere around—got it.

I want to look him up again. Nothing special, not that same search. Just learn more about Hypnos, get a feel for what maybe he’s like outside of constant bone mode.

Maybe, uh… “hypno encyclopedia”? Sure.

Twist my gaze over past the edge of the sofa, and I don’t see him stooping over my shoulder or something. T.V.’s still got him? Tried offering him the remote earlier, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t take it.

All I hear is that same _slup_ — _slup_ — _slup_ licking since I grabbed him a popsicle out of the freezer.

I’m not in the mood for ice cream right now. Just want to make sure he keeps extra cool and comfy.

Okay, first result: “Unofficial multi-league all leagues qualifiers complete listing G-H: Hypno.”

More trainer bullshit. Figures.

Ooh, never mind it being bullshit, here we go: “No Hypno has reached the qualifying brackets of any official league singles, doubles, triples, or one-on-one tournaments.”

So they really are lovers, not fighters. Cute. I’m cheering you on, guys, don’t give up.

Hmm.

Kinda imagining being in the locker room or wherever after some tournament making sure the rough-and-tumble pro fighter feels nice and rewarded after a hard, hot battle.

Never mind the fighting. Turns out I could probably get into that kinda scene.

Okay, “hypno basics.” Round four, I guess.

My phone tells me, “Learn the basics of hypnotherapy and the good it can do for YOU with—”

Fuck my goddamn phone. Fling this shit spiraling away from me over the floor. Bonks to a stop over near the stairs.

It’s got a case. It’s fine.

Glance over, but it’s just _slup_ — _slup_ — _slup_ up there.

I don’t glance back to the T.V., though.

“You ever do any fighting?” I say up toward him. “Battles and stuff. Your kinda thing?”

Doesn’t really matter if he doesn’t answer, or can’t.

“Must be hard, take a lot of practice,” I say. “I wouldn’t do it.”

The _slup-slup_ stops.

I guess I smile. Just a little one. Pat his leg a little, what I can reach of it. His shin.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “No point somebody else telling you what to do with your own life. Got to put you first.”

Takes another couple seconds, but there’s the next sticky _slup_ up top.

It’s kinda nice having a conversation with him. At him.

“Damn, though.”

Stretch my legs. Stretch my fingers, my back. Sweat it out.

“Need the A.C. back already….”

 _Slup_. _Slup_. _Slup_.

And then he stops again.

I feel his cushion shift behind me, and he pats his big furry hand over my bare shoulder where my shirt’s slipped down my bicep, tinier than his.

Scoot higher up, give him a real glance—he’s watching me, yes, but mostly holding an empty popsicle stick stained three-quarters blue out toward me.

“Mmh. You want another?”

I say it as I take it, but he doesn’t motion anywhere. No glance back toward the kitchen. No big giddy look in his squint. Like he just didn’t want to hold it anymore, I think.

“I got you. Let me know when, I’ll get you another.”

Whichever. Settle down back down here, pop the stick in my mouth.

Huh?

Don’t know why I just did.

Doesn’t have his own special flavor on it now or anything. Just a warm wet stick I’m the one sucking on.

I don’t want to get up to throw it away, though.

Yeah, actually. My mouth’s a pretty good place for it right now. Gives my tongue something to do. That makes actual sense to me.

Still scooted up high enough to see him just with turning my head again, so one more glance and I tuck the stick toward one cheek, say, “At least you’re already set for when it—um… it gets cold out.”

My glance doesn’t make it all the way back up to his face.

He’s getting hard.

Sliding his knees apart as I see in the corner of my eye him looking back at me too, and here’s his deep pink dick saying hello to me personally, dragging back out over the cushion.

Not totally thinking about it as I push over, tuck my knees in underneath me. Reposition my cushion, slide it underneath a little more right in between his legs.

“Cold out, like… with all the fur. You’re set.”

Staring at his dick and getting myself comfortable right in front of it, and it’s still coming out to meet me halfway. I just wrap one soft hand around the hot, hairless shaft.

Kinda wish he could help me stay warm when it gets cold out, too.

Shit. I’m not even second guessing myself anymore.

Should this have gotten normal this quick?

Pull the stick out from my mouth with my free hand, then settle that hand over his furry thigh. Lean in. Give him a peck. Just a little _mwah_ from me to his dick, neat and pretty.

No heavy smell fogging off him this time, no slick leftovers polished down his meat. Shower treated him right. Just a faint scent of his natural goings-on still left.

I’m about to adjust that.

Pucker wide and say _ahhh_ , give him back the kinda hello he needs.

All his cute little nubs squish under my lips on the way inside, and wrapping a kiss around those, licking at all of them while they’re soft and easy—it’s a trip. It’s pretty good.

Wrap my lips into the kinda grin I use when I’m trying to let a guy know I wanna treat him right, too. Look him up in the eyes from all the way down here, smile like that, and make sure he knows my tongue seriously appreciates him.

Not really a taste from them, but the nubs even feel kinda cute rolling around over my tongue. When they’re not helping in the whole mating thing.

Pop him out. Got more to get done before he gets the real blowjob.

Lean totally under him, give him a lot of kisses. Suck on the underside, work up my spit for some serious polishing here.

“You jusht do… _hmmf_ … whatever you want, okay?”

No way I’m stopping kisses just to talk.

“Jusht make sure— _hahm_ —you cum real good. All you got to worry about.”

Because communication is key. And I really want him to know.

His big nose twitches when he snorts, and he’s watching me with the kinda focus that I know he’s making sure I’m doing him right. No excuses.

Let go of his shaft, actually. No handjob this time. Brace both my hands between his thighs, make this one a no-hands-allowed kinda thing.

Then keep playing kissy-kissy, slurp his shaft back to a sheen. I wanna see my reflection in this thing it’s so wet with me. Work my face around the sides, give him big wide wet sloppy kisses the whole way around, make sure I get the entire dick. My cheeks are getting kinda sloppy too, sliding all against him.

Slurp toward his base, really get deep in there, and now I’m nuzzling all his crotch hair against my face, licking his pouch, and DAMN.

His pouch is _wild_.

Layers of wrinkled skin bunched up around the root from where his dick’s stretched out, but the wrinkles are kinda… mushy? Hard dick and spongy pouch, and I’m slipping my wet tongue in the slick little crevice between them because I want him to know I appreciate every single inch no matter where it’s hiding.

It’s gooey underneath. I don’t know with what, but it’s already pretty sloppy under here. I like it. He shivers a little, too, bucks his hips a second while I’m getting my face into him.

And—um. Apparently, um, this is where his musk comes from, because oh my god.

Wait, seriously, oh my god. Hah. Um. He’s—I don’t think I can just wash this kinda smell off me. It’s seeping into me.

Just want to really really really kinda lap some up, slip my tongue around in the crevice a little more, just—

Almost wanna lie to myself, but my entire brain’s forcing me to admit very clearly that this tastes really _really_ good.

Some part of me kinda actually thinking that if he got up and bent me over right now, I don’t think the rest of me could stop him. Or—try him to stop him. At all.

His musk is melting my brain. I love it. I can’t help it, I love this. _I love this_.

Heavy fuzzy hand comes behind my neck, fingers rubbing stiff over me like he’s holding on, and it turns out we both like to touch. _Love_ to. And I, um—right, I still need to suck.

I think it’s more like I get to suck. This really is a privilege at this point.

I really hope he’s got a lot for me to drink this load.

Drag myself away from his pouch with a dangling tongue and trembling throat. Okay, panting already. I guess I’m not surprised. But come on, more to do. Wanna get this guy nice and huge in my mouth. Pay him back.

Can pay his balls another trip later. Yeah, right now I need to suck. That’s required.

Close my eyes and give him a wide-open, lovey-dovey kiss around all the nubs, squishing under me warm and gentle. Wipe my tongue up flat over his slit, drink down his oozing precum. Then draw forward, slop my messy lips wider, really take him inside.

I’ve really kinda got to stretch for him, it’s definitely pretty good. He’s the right size. It’s really good.

Fat hand on my neck warming me to a boil, reminding me somebody’s watching. Counting on me. Then his other hand comes over the first, gripping around me from both sides, like he’s not leaving me any room to pull back. Fingers tighten over my sweaty nape, and he snorts.

Don’t worry. I wanna go deep. You just worry about painting me an ivory cream in here. Please.

Suck my mouth hollow and push forward, and I get to feel every inch of his slimy dick sliding between my taut cheeks, squirming and oozing over my tongue hugged against his underside. Filling me up. Don’t have much extra room in here with him, he’s a wide load.

Damn. I hope he feels good and everything, but right here, he feels really good.

Tilt my neck a little bit as I go, push my face farther down him, angling toward his groin—I wanna get there. But—not yet.

Slide him back a couple inches out my squeezed, drooling lips, and open my eyes. Wanna see him. Just a slim gaze, and I grin up at him with a mouth full of dick. I want him to see me like this, happy. Sucking his dick and really happy to do it.

He’s watching. Squinting down at me hard, really intense again, like he’s not kidding that I better do this right.

Doesn’t snort, but his nostrils flare. That’s what I get.

Mhm. He can make sure I do it right. Can’t stop him from making me.

Bob over the first half of his dick for a minute, slopping him loud and slick, make sure he’s slathered. Then take it another inch, bob closer, closer. Don’t blink. Suck harder.

Pop him out, take a breath. Don’t close my mouth. Just… pant for him, don’t look away. His hands don’t let me stray too far, but I’m allowed to take a breath around these globs of drool I’m leaking. Just for a second.

I need him back in my mouth.

Kinda dive back on him. Cave my tired cheeks again and suck him _tight_ as I can, squeeze deeper down the shaft. He’s hard as a rock. Throbbing inside me, bloating. Subtler little twitches near the tip that I can taste this time, pressed so tight inside me.

He’s probably marking his territory with me, for real. Rubbing out his scent in me. If I went out today, anybody I pass would be tilting their heads, crossing their brows. _What’s that smell on her?_

I am covered in his musk and for sure, I smell like his bitch.

No… I don’t like that. That’s not me. That’s not it.

Slathered in his musk and his sweat and soon his cum, and I smell like his fuckpet.

Mm. Wow.

Kinda. Yeah.

My hands are so hot buried over his legs. Sunken into his light beachy fur. My knees aren’t sore thanks to the cushion, but I still can’t pretend I’m not leaking down my own thighs.

If I could cum just from sucking dick, I’d be done already.

I just wanna drink a bucketload. Enough to drown me. Stare back up into eyes like all I know about him is that he knows what’s best, he’s sure enough for the both of us, he’ll take care of me. I wanna stay down here all day, and I don’t want this day to end. Please let me keep sucking his dick forever.

Jaw is getting kinda sore, though….

But I’m not stopping before I deepthroat him. I don’t have a choice. His dick needs to go down my throat, and I need to know how it feels choking me.

Suck closer and closer toward his pouch, and his nubs are poking at my gag reflex already. Almost there. Breathe, deep breath….

Mm.

 _Glkk_. Mm.

Little bit at a time, just—angle him down, just… swallow….

 _Hlkk_! Mmf.

Yeah. He’s pretty big in here.

Can feel my throat keeping stretched around him, squeezed open. Making my throat— _convulse_ a little, um, just the once. It’s okay. Just hold it down. Got this.

Those nubs are like… some kinda extra texture, this deep. Rubbing me. Squished, but—still there. Can really feel them. They’re here to play.

Can still breathe, can—little breaths through my nostrils, I’m okay. I have some practice. Just—push a little more, reach his pouch….

 _Mnlkk_. Gentle.

Oh god is he throbbing? Oh god, the nubs—

Mm. Mm!

Can’t breathe.

Can’t choke, gag. Totally silent.

He’s bloated. Still a couple inches away from his pouch, but my airway’s sealed up.

Clenched around his dick and I can’t pull off, can’t beg him to pull out. It’s suctioned me in place. Just staring up at him, tearing up, swallowing around his shaft instinctively and repeatedly, and he’s just watching me.

Mmg. Mm!

 _Hah_.

I can breathe. _Glkk_. Breathe. I can breathe through my nose again, little bit.

Right. Mating thing. He can do that. That’s… kinda scary.

But I kinda think I could get used to it.

Now I keep going. Come on, another inch. Push his slimy shaft little deeper, edge it down my throat, suck him down. Ah—

 _Hlggk_.

Can’t breathe. Deep enough that his length alone has me plugged up.

I’m not gagging anymore for now. It’s okay. Just—last inch to go, come on.

He’s _really_ thick.

Don’t panic. Just keep going.

Just—

Mm.

There you are. Very last inch.

Tip to root nice and sloppy, personally spitshined, drooling down my throat. And here’s his pouch, and here’s my tongue slurping a hello underneath it again. Musky.

God. I really needed this.

Kinda need another breath, but—this’ll just take a second, I’ve been waiting for this.

Pull one shaky hand away from him, touch it to the bulge in my neck.

Wow.

I am bulging. Really. He feels… really good right here.

But it’s seriously time to breathe again, so oh god he’s throbbing—

Mm. Mmh.

Ah.

It’s just for another second. Hold on just a second. This is for him anyway, it’s okay, don’t struggle.

He’s not worried. Looking back down at me, locked in my throat—he’s in control. It’s okay. Can feel his hands behind my neck still holding onto me gentle, firm. He’s comfortable. It feels really good for him.

Looking down at me like that, he snorts.

I’m wet. I’m so wet.

Mm!

Please let me breathe.

Mm.

 _Glff_ —hah!

Air.

Maybe yanked myself back from him a little too quick there, but I’m just gasping, not coughing. I’m okay. I can throat his entire dick… I’m okay.

Wipe the tears out from my eyes, breathing fast, and here’s his dick dangling full mast in front of me like a thick meaty feeding tube, big wet strands of pre and spit roped between my gaping mouth and every inch of his shaft.

If I got a photo of this, it would be… pretty well implied how deep I just went.

Don’t think I can grab my phone from here without interrupting. Need it in reach next time.

Maybe he could snap the pictures.

Probably shouldn’t save evidence of this, though. But… maybe just something for me. For when he’s got somewhere else to be sooner or later.

Yeah, um… I guess he’s not going to be my guest forever, huh? That’s probably true.

So I guess I should get back to choking on this thing while I can.

He snorts.

I look back up just in time for his dick to smoosh into my cheek, smear all over me some more, and he’s pulled his hands back to the edge of his seat while he’s pushing forward out of it.

Eager for—?

“I got you, I can— _hff_ —go for more, um—”

His feet thud back onto the floor on either side of my cushion. Dick wobbling over my face all of a sudden, drooling above me, and I’m staring straight up at him. At it.

“Um.”

He pulls one hot fuzzy hand right back under my neck, gets a strong hold on me. Wraps his other hand around his shaft. Bends at the knees slightly and hunches way over, angles his slobbered dick straight down toward me.

Like, at me.

“You wanna…?”

Don’t know why I’m asking.

He angles and pushes me farther back from the sofa, farther down—I kinda flail both my hands backward to catch against the floor, brace myself.

Kinda flinched. But like—the good way?

The fan’s not catching us anymore out here. It’s hot.

“You can—okay….”

All I can think to tell him.

He’s got the angle. Pointed straight into me. And he’s got me, and I’m not wriggling out of this one.

He snorts. Taps himself between my parted lips. I don’t know where to look between the serious intent in his gaze way up there, and his dick way down here, taking command.

He’s really going to fuck me up.

Oh my god. Please.

Do it. He’s _got_ to do it.

He pushes.

Slowly at first, just edges inside, but I’m stretching all over again, and the subconscious part of my brain’s making sure I wrap my tongue right back underneath him, keep him lubed and sloppy.

I don’t have any leverage.

Kinda just clenching my fingers over the hardwood, ass knelt over my feet, bent back, prone, vulnerable.

He doesn’t stop dipping inside me until—

 _Hlkk_. Damn.

Until he’s smearing his nubs all over my tonsils just for good measure.

Pulls back, and I breathe fast through my nose. Deep breath. Quickly. Not panting anymore but my heart’s pumping all kinds of warnings to my lungs. _Breathe_. Now.

Shallow thrust back toward my gullet, and my intimate guest keeps the kind of firm grip on me I can’t wriggle out of. Not trying to, but I definitely couldn’t anyway. Just quick, shallow thrusts for a minute, slopping around between my cheeks, and I’m trying my best to suck for him, make him feel welcome and comfortable, but it’s kinda hard keeping control of myself when he’s taken all the momentum.

Quick, shallow thrusts, just deep enough to trigger my salivary glands into— _glrk_ —going into panic mode.

His thumb kinda strokes me under my ear. He’s not loosening up, but he strokes me. Fat furry finger rubbing softly under my lobe like it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m doing good. I feel like a good girl.

Getting kinda hard to—see him. Eyes are tearing back up. Can’t wipe them. I think my whole face is a mess.

But I hear the snort.

He throbs. Bloats up. The nubs just miss latching onto my uvula or somewhere, and he keeps fucking me puckered up for him, but he’s so hard. Moves his other hand to hold me, too, and now I’m locked in tight anyway.

Just a second and the nubs fade back to a squish over the back of my tongue. And he pauses for half a second. Kinda… lines up better, feels like.

Both hands holding me tight, and slowly but surely without letting me set the pace, he squeezes down my foodpipe.

Deep, sweaty breath…

And my throat’s wrapping him tight.

 _Glkk_.

Choking on him.

Can feel saliva leaking and sputtering out my lips, drooling like I can’t help it. Yeah. Messy rope of spit dangling off my chin right now, pretty sure.

Didn’t realize just how bad I needed a facefuck. I really really needed this.

He’s going to blow down my throat, right? Balls deep? God, it’s the grossest way to phrase it, balls deep. I love it. He’s got to deep dick me, come on, obviously he needs to cum as deep as he can fuck himself into me.

Still trying to keep my balance, but I can shift one hand up, stroke his inner thigh, at least a little. Kinda stroking, kinda bracing.

Come on. Mm—you’ve got me. Use me.

And…

 _Hlrk_.

Touchdown.

Wrinkly, musky pouch smooshed right back over my lips. Yes. Lemme slurp. I’ll lick. I wanna. Oh god, throbbing—

Mm.

Sealed up. That’s okay. Just lemme lick, I like it here. I can… just breathe again in a minute.

Feel his fingers aching around me, tight, tense. Twitching inside me, waiting it out. Sweating.

Or is that me?

I’m hot. Blushing. Drooling down my bulging throat, inside and out. Sneaking a deep, thick taste under his crevice. This is really nice.

Mm—

 _Glkk_.

I’m free. Kinda. The nubs let me go, but my guy is holding me tight. Pulling back out a couple inches—fast.

Oh.

Think he’s decided it’s about time to bust his nut. Thrusting—

 _HLRK_.

Plowing. Mm. Oh god. That’s… big. He likes going rough.

 _Hlk_. _HLK_.

Balls smacking wet and heavy against my chin. Hard. He’s finally taking me at my word, fucking my face like he really needs to go. But it’s—

 _GLK_. _Glk_. _Hlrff_.

It’s kinda scraping directly against my gag reflex. Exactly against it, over and over. Not making it—easy—!

 _GLF_.

But he’s not gonna stop. Just hold it down.

 _Hlkk_. Hold it down. Hold it down.

 _GLRK_.

Not like I have a choice. He’s not pulling out. But I’m—kinda glad. Don’t let me go.

Still kinda need to breathe….

That’s okay. He needs to cum. Don’t struggle. Just—god, I can’t stop swallowing. Drooling.

 _HLKK_.

Damn. I’m really wet.

I might need to masturbate tonight after all. No harm just imagining him. I’ve got a lot of good material to—

 _HLFF_. _Glkk_.

Okay, yeah, I need to masturbate later.

And breathe….

Oh. Think his balls are kinda pulling back. Twitching. Is he ready to—? Yeah.

One more— _HLRKK_ —thick messy thrust, and he lodges my face flat against his groin. Tight. Hard. I’m choking down one hundred percent dick, and my lungs are kinda giving out. Can’t breathe. Can’t really pull off.

But he throbs. Bloats—locks me tight.

Mm.

I seriously can’t make a sound. Can’t beg, can’t even splutter more of a mess down my jaw.

His knuckles tighten up. Can’t see much when the world’s this watery, but I can feel him.

Ah. He’s cumming.

Balls twitching gently on top of my chin, and there’s a wave pulsing through his shaft. He’s snorting. Feel his knees locking up beside me. I’m not getting away.

Just noticed how warm he is in my throat. Really noticed. This front-of-my-skull realization of how rigid he’s stretching me, the sweat and heat pulsing between my veins. My arm is getting kinda sore propping me up but he’s making me feel really comfortable down here.

I think—that’s the first rope down my throat. I think I felt it. Warm.

Still throbbing, pulsing. It’s thick.

I can feel it. God, I can feel it, I’m so glad. It’s really really warm.

Lick the wrinkles under his pouch, beg for more anyway.

I’ve got room. Gimme. Dump it. Just gimme more, fill me up. Don’t let me stop. I need to take it. Make me.

Don’t let go.

Just like a toilet in this position. He’s flushing his load straight down my gullet. He’s seriously treating me like a toilet.

Please don’t pull out.

Mm.

Can’t taste it, but it’s so warm. Sticky.

Some high-pitched buzzing noise in the back of my head getting louder, but I can hear the echo in my nerves of his gooey spurts over that. I think. I hope. Makes me sound like a toilet for real.

His grip is loosening…?

I wonder how much he just poured down my stomach. I hope it felt really good.

Getting a little…

Mm?

His knees are giving out, thighs kinda trembling. Guess he really went all out. He’s, um… falling back, I think. All done.

Wait, but he’s still latched onto me. Into me. Wait, the nubs are still—I can’t—

Mm!

Ow.

Dragged me back down into his seat with him. I can’t resist. Straddled in his lap still throating him, lips stuck in a flat french kiss, and I think—I don’t have any more in me.

I really like sucking his dick though.

Oh, the nubs. Shrinking? It’s really hard to feel where they are anymore.

 _Hlrk_.

Tickling hands on my sore jaw, sliding me off… okay. He’s got me. Taking care of me for me. I owe him one.

Air?

AIR.

My own hand clenching back up over my chest as I take ten gulps of oxygen at the same time, _breathing_ , breathing, and I feel wet everywhere, slobbered, sticky, I’m _alive_ , what the hell.

Rub the tears out of my eyes, wipe away pre and whatever kinds of mess with them….

Gasping. Breathing again. All the parts of brain powering back up, holy shit.

God.

It’s like a hot meal swimming in my stomach right now.

My shirt is soaked in pure gobs of my own drool. I’m soaked.

I just… curl around and lean back into my corner, take a second. Curl up against the ottoman down here and catch up a minute.

That was a first time. That was definitely my first one of those, like that. God.

Still holding this popsicle stick.

Roll my face up over toward him, and, um… we really are on the same page. He’s panting, limp, his wet sweaty dick dragging back inside. Spent.

I cough—just a couple times, can’t help it. Then back to long breaths, deep.

“You can…”

Long breaths.

“Do that… again, if you want….”

Roll my face back toward the ceiling, seriously take a break.

“Later….”

Damn.

Feels like he’s got me wrapped around his finger. Under a spell. I don’t remember it being this easy to get me to just—

I don’t know. But like…

Dammit.

How long do I have to wait to do this again…?

 

 

Yeah. A late lunchtime is long enough.

Homecooked meal laid out for him at the head of the table, cold glass of water to wash it down, and homebrewed meal for me under the table.

No hurry. I’m not rushing him.

Curled up at the feet of his chair, wrapped up between his knees again, taking my time this time. Gentle kisses up and down, little suckles. Sucking him off sweetly now.

Left my phone somewhere else. Anywhere else. Answered a couple texts from Momma about not teasing Daddy so much, and if that’s all she had on her mind to talk about, I’ve got nobody else to tend to today. Just me and my guest now.

I’m calm again. This is just nice.

Pop the tip back out of my mouth, lick at these slick wet strings dangling between us. Juicy.

“Good?”

Kinda murmur it. I just like talking to him.

“Like the food?”

Can’t even see if he nods yes or no. Probably doesn’t, though. Secretive, or stoic. Either. Just hear the little mushing sound of silverware scooping through pasta.

It’s hot down here.

But I kinda like that right now.

Lean in, purse my lips around his underside. Quiet slurps. Take a breath—keep suckling. Kinda… sigh like this, maybe a little moan kinda thing. Vibrate it through him, taste his little automatic flex over my tongue.

He’s not rushing me, either.

“Ymff—”

Pop him loose a second, but give him one more lick after.

“—How long you staying for?”

Not so much looking for the answer as getting him to think about it. How long he wants to stay for.

“A.C. guy coming tomorrow.”

Two warm licks closer toward the tip. Not stopping to talk. Multitasking.

“It’d suck if the only time you’re here is when it’s boiling.”

Damn.

I’m just getting even wetter.

My fingers slipping between my knees, too. Curling under my underwear. Told myself not to, but…

Come on. It’s just fantasizing. Like, while I blow him. I’m not crossing the line I care the most about, and—come on. Seriously.

I really want to.

Knuckles already getting damp rubbing past slick cotton, but I’ll just take it slow. I am in… ooh.

In no hurry.

Got a pretty good start down here. I could—mm. I could take him whole right now, easy. He’d just have pin me down, make sure I couldn’t squirm away while he’s inching inside all the way. God. For sure.

I haven’t lost track. One finger for me… one more kiss for him, right against the tip. Another slurp.

“Fwou— _mleh_ —you ever get help with this before?”

Not with the kinda voice like I’m jealous, I don’t really care. I just like… talking. Makes it last longer.

Take a second to suck him all the way down. Brace my mouth against him, open wide, and slide him down against my throat. Brace for it—swallow….

 _Hlkk_.

Oof. Perfect.

Pull him back out gooey and sticky. My kinda texture. Lap at the mess I’m making, stroke a little bit… little deeper inside me.

Little shifting noise at the edge of the table, and one big meaty hand comes down under with me, strokes me too. My cheek. Silverware clinks above me and in my peripheral vision I can see his waist bend an inch forward, taking a bite probably—but his thumb rubs my cheek up and down, ticklish, hot.

I guess I nuzzle into his touch, kinda… just enjoy it. Keep licking him while he pets me.

Kinda reminds me of my roommate back in university, my little escapade down here.

She was weird.

Always hanging out with this pokemon in our room, that mostly pastel weasel-y one with the long swingy fur down its paws, really slender. One of those ones. Said he was her dad’s, back in the day. And her dad had passed. So I didn’t touch that, not poking any sore spots, thank you.

It was just a thought in the back of my head back then, never really gave it a second read, but looking back, yeah, no, mhm, I get it now.

One hundred percent they were boning down as dirty as they could fit it in.

Mmf, wait. Yes. Thumb my clit just a little, extra slow. Want this to last.

Yeah. They weren’t even reminiscing better times when he hung out. They were just sharing the same pair of headphones and listening to industrial rock. The S&M soundtrack kind, loud enough for me to hear whether or not they wanted me to.

She never did give my music recs a chance. Like a guy singing instead of screaming couldn’t do it for her or something.

Pet myself a little bit _higher_ in here too, there we go… and all my guy’s got to do is stroke my jaw, keep me warm.

All he’s got to do is touch me. This is really nice. Kiss him some thanks, little deeper again… _hlrk_.

And she was—yeah, always really antsy with me on the days he was chilling with us. Waiting for me to leave. No shit she jumped his dick the second I closed that door. Every single time, come on.

Thinking about it now, here’s that voice in my brain making me tell myself fine, okay, she kinda maybe might have been on to something.

But I’m not that kinda woman. I’m adjacent. Not that far gone. I’m just imagining getting it doggystyle from a Hypno, is all.

Oh god. Yeah. My face in the pillows, the whole bed shaking. I already know he can plow. He can _fuck_. He’s got the power, yes yes yes.

Mm.

Haven’t thought about that roommate since pretty much the day I graduated.

Wonder if she’s still doing it with him.

Pull back off from the last inch of his shaft again and I see what kinda mess I’m making all over again, spit hanging off my open lips and vibrating through my own panting.

“Lemme— _hn_.”

Mm. Clean him up first.

“Lemme— _hah_ —lemme swallow it this time, okay? I wanna drink it.” 

Get a little quieter, punctuate making my case with a tiny little kitten lick.

“I promise I won’t spill any….”

He curls a finger under my chin and scratches. Pre beading up over his slit, and it’s automatic I lap it up.

Silverware scraping farther over china up top, and it sounds to me like lunch is almost over.

Mm. _Hnnng_.

It’s okay. I’m okay. My fingers are enough. I can… just finish this up now, drink him down, mix myself up, and that’s enough.

Get a little more serious and tongue his slimy shaft up and down again, make sure he knows how bad I want a drink. Make my case. I really do wanna drink his cum, I’m not just begging, I mean it. I’m helpless. I need another load, thick as it gets.

Virile.

Just remembered that.

God, I _wish_.

Totally safe just fantasizing, getting off to the dream of a fat raw load swimming inside me, pumped _deep_.

Keep my lips wrapped around the tip, rub my free hand down the root of his shaft, squeeze him, milk him. Get him there. I want it.

You know I want your load. Come on. Feels good? Gimme a drink.

 _Mnnnf_.

Please cum inside me….

God, come on, so close. Come on, yes—I’m—

Ah.

I’m cumming. Cumming cumming cumming cum’n—

 _Hnnnf_. Mm. Yes.

God, please—yes. Inside. Deep.

My _favorite_ kinda—ah— _mnnn_.

 _Nng_. Yes. _Yes_. Yes. God, mm— _mnnnn_ fuck.

Hff. Mm.

Ah…

Throbbing.

He’s pulsing, he’s cumming….

Nubs poking up just behind my teeth, big and squishy. Catching me. Oh my god, he’s letting me drink it. He really is.

Mm.

Squirting right onto my tongue, creamy, thick… can feel the shape of every wet rope I’m catching. Yes.

Big load. Lucky pet. Promise I’ll swallow it all….

Hard furry fingers over my cheek barely petting me for a second. Stroking scratchier, rougher. Telling me not to stop sucking, suck it all out.

And gulp him down. I’m a good girl. Don’t break my promise.

It’s a lot.

Sour. Delicious.

He… seriously knows how to treat a lady to lunch. My nerves are still tingling. I could keep going. Still near my peak.

Glad I know how to treat him right, too. My guest.

If he doesn’t have anywhere else to be in a hurry, maybe he really can stay as long as he likes. Like a long vacation for him.

Not totally convinced I can keep telling myself I’m just treating him like a guest.

Doesn’t matter. Never did.

Lap at his slit before I let him go, make sure I’ve got every slimy little strand.

“Hmmf….”

Slide him loose. Breathing heavy, still coming down.

Kinda still putting my thoughts back together, looking back toward the edge of the table like I’m looking up at him, just for me.

“Can you wait a longer while for the next one?”

He’s not softening yet, so… kitten licks.

I don’t want his dick going raw. Got to take proper care of it, for real.

“Hold off til dinner, and you can, um, do whatever you’re feeling like. Mouth, throat. You can use my breasts.”

Pull my hand back down to his shin, stroking gently. His coat is kinda soft. Adjust my—mphf—butt. Kinda sore down here now.

He really will have to leave eventually. I’m not in too deep. I guess I just wanna make sure he’s always comfortable coming back.

Two fat fingers back to scratching my cheek, petting me, and I’m nuzzling into them like… yeah.

Right now, it’s all my brain will let me think about.


	3. Chapter 3

God I’m hot.

_Mnn_.

Kinda still weirdly nervous and sweaty in this position, never mind the heat. Feels like we’re getting ready for something a lot more than just getting him off.

This is a difficult new day.

I’m kinda worried just how… _really_ good his hands are. Just groping my tits.

Fingers spread deep, wide, these thick greedy hands kneading into my breasts like he’s ready to kickstart a brand new bike, take her for a— _mngg_. Dammit.

Or that’s me. Because here I am straddling his lap on the sofa, facing him, stroking off his fat weird pink dick with both hands. Kinda… grinding him against me, too.

Against my underwear. I’m not— _mmf_ —naked. I’m telling myself I’m not doing that. Not totally sure why anymore, but … that’s what I’m telling myself.

He’s hefting my whole weight, fondling me like this… playing with me. Lifting, squeezing, feeling out how to make me _squirm_ how he likes, figuring out what kinda groping gets what kinda whimpers out of me.

Stroking him like this, he’s kinda rubbing directly against where part of me really wants him bad. Like _bad_. Like I’m trying to stop imagining him peeling my underwear off and just grabbing me tight, stretching me open, driving all the way home into his horny little good girl.

Oh god.

He’s looking me in the eye again. Still groping me _hard_ , deep, pinching _mfff_ — _pinching_ me when he’s in the mood, but that baggy squint is aimed right back at me, and I know I’m not looking at him that steadily.

Bags under his eyes, and his lids still aren’t open all the way, but… seriously intense. Barely blinking. Like I can see all he wants, too.

I’m not convinced I’m still in my right mind.

But he is. He knows what he wants. Doesn’t have to lie to himself.

Um… shit. 

Guys like that are kinda exactly my type.

I can’t hold his gaze like that, shit. Just… stare at his dick some more instead.

God he’s hard.

Getting harder to stop thinking about that today. Can’t tell if I’m still sleepy, or I’m just way too horny to get back in my right mind.

I’m not in my right mind. No way. I’m way too wet for this.

Kinda worrying thought that I keep thinking about it at all, but if I’m just thinking about it hypothetically… condoms? I have condoms. I’ve got— _hff_ … got them back at my place. Shit.

Maybe I need to come back to my senses long enough to remember we’re waiting on another complete stranger to drop by sometime today between nine and two. A complete stranger for real, this time.

So, starting sixty minutes or whenever ago… any hour now. Can’t get too deep into any of this. Could get interrupted any time this morning. Don’t wanna get caught compromised.

Kinda.

These repair people never come on the early side anyway, so, um… _mmn_ —no hurry, mostly.

Just make sure my guy here gets his first sticky load for the day out all over me before then.

Fingers are so hot pumping him. Fan blowing right on me but it can’t really cool me off anymore. My guy feels even thicker this close to me, throbbing right in front of my stomach.

This position is kinda dangerously good. This is really good. I’m dripping, I swear I can feel it. Swollen and sweaty all over.

_Hff_ —?

He’s let go of me. Pulls his meaty hands away, and probably I’m pouting or something before his hands slink underneath my shirt instead, bundling the cotton over his wrists as he raises them again to fondle me directly.

Oh god. Yes. _Nnngg_ —taking care of me his own way.

Taking care of me.

Really feels like that.

And I wanna take care of him. Like really.

First of all like rubbing my gooey fist back down toward his root, swiveling my knuckles all around by his pouch, _squeezing_ him back, coaxing that little bit more pre out his slit. Make sure I’m helping his fat little balls churn up another thick, messy load while we’ve got the time for it.

Rub my other hand up over his nubs, swipe that pre back down, keep him lubed nice and comfy.

_Mmf_ —

“Make sure it’s a big load, come on….”

_Mngg_.

Didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Thick load for me….”

Hard to think about what I’m saying out loud.

He throbs again, and he catches my fingers tight around him. Suctions to me, makes me hold on nice and firm while he enjoys sticking to me for a couple seconds. God… I really like that.

Peek back up at his gaze, and he’s still looking straight back at me.

Like I get the feeling he’s not just thinking about my handjob to get him throbbing like this.

Pretty sure his imagination’s going on the same track as mine, and, um—

Kinda making me wetter thinking about it like that.

Bite my lip and glance back over toward the hall, toward the corner by the front door. I can’t keep his gaze on him that long anymore. His eyes are still weirdly easy to get lost in, but…

Maybe not as easy when all I can think about in them anymore is the roughest sex of my life underneath him.

There’s no part of my brain left that can tell me he wouldn’t seriously ruin me.

Voice in my brain telling me he _should_.

And I can’t really, um… disagree.

Throbbing. He’s throbbing. Oh god, come on. You need to let out a lot, I’ve got you, come on. Hot and creamy.

Scoot forward over his legs until I’ve straddled myself directly against his shaft, sitting up straight in his naked furry lap, and I rub him out flat against my stomach. Come on. Ring my thumb and forefinger around his squishy nubs, get them nice and comfy. Stroke his hot dick with my sticky palm against one side, belly on the other.

He’s pulsing right over my belly. Right over me. Just inches away from where he could fuck me up. God I want a big load.

Come on, stroke you nice and tight, gimme—

_Hngg_. And he’s squeezing me. Squeezing me really hard—tough to hold back….

Oh god he’s bloating. Here he comes.

Rub him out good and slimy, yes—and here’s his first ivory rope squirting over my bare stomach, pearly and thick, sticking, not dripping. He snorts, gropes me _tight_. Warm. Thick. It’s really thick.

My nostrils are twitching.

Here’s his second shot, and I’ve got him aimed perfect right over my belly button, dumping his nuts all over me. Little sound of him splotching onto me, the gooey noise of his cream squirting onto my skin. Filthy. It’s a lot.

God. The third rope shoots all the way up between my breasts, streaks between them like a long wet yardstick. Still under the rough fuzzy claim of his fists, not letting me go that easy.

So he’s got _range_ , too.

He snorts. _Squeezes_ , god, squeezes really good. Really really good. Rough.

Squirts another rope, squirts one more, gets my whole stomach, gets half my ribs really slathered in thick wet jizz before his balls are ever ready to taper off their load.

I can smell him all over me again.

Like he’s pumping this feeling straight into my brain that I’m claimed, like I’m just territory marked.

But no no no, that’s not true until he’s pinned me down and—

Dammit, no.

Never mind. _Hff_ , he likes to touch. Change of track:

One of my hands is stuck to just a few of his bloated nubs, but my other one, I just kinda finger a little glob of his cream onto, just give it a big lick—

Mm. _Mff_. Mmm, god.

Something seriously wrong with me that I’m straddling my guy thinking yeah, I really need to blow him today. For real. Not even for him, for me. Need a tall glass of this down my throat again.

Terrible voice in my brain whimpering that I really don’t want to just help him masturbate. Not just. And I can’t stop listening to it.

I’m barely holding back from panting.

It’s hot.

Meet his eyes again, and he hasn’t stopped looking at me. In me. Breathing heavy, and I know the feeling.

Still holding on to my breasts like they’re all his.

I mean… I get the feeling he could make them that pretty easily. Dangerously easy.

His nubs ease up on my fingers. In another second they loosen from me with a sloppy little pop, spit a little extra jizz over my hand.

He _pinches_ me—god, it’s for more than just a second—he squeezes me hard between his meaty fingertips, rolls me around, makes me _squeak_ —

Then pops me loose, too. Pats both my tits like with a friendly pat on the back, pulls his hands back out from under my shirt. Still squinting into my eyes. And mine are so weakened.

So my shirt flaps loose and sweaty back over the long, fresh ropes of cum painted underneath. Hiding the guilty, guilty evidence.

I, um…

Need to wash up.

And I guess I need to change shirts again.

But I’m pretty sure I’m out of the clean ones I brought with me.

Inch back from my guest’s dick, give him back more of the fan’s breeze while I back off, and I kinda barely squeak something out.

“Need to go change….”

Could speak more than five words at a time a couple days ago.

My brain really is turning to mush.

Glance between his face and his still hard dick, and I guess I mutter, “Need to wash up?”

My guy looks back up to me, squinting and studying, but he doesn’t move with me as I’m edging back to get up. Just breathing a little hard, still resting up.

No company for me this time. That’s his decision, not mine. His right.

But the T.V.’s on behind me, I guess, so as I push back onto hot sticky hardwood, he’s got something else to keep him busy while I hope and pray nobody rings the doorbell for just like _fifteen_ more minutes, please, dear god.

 

 

Careful. Careful.

Don’t want to go too rough, don’t wanna, don’t—god I wanna _lot_.

Cool water running down my back, streaming around my waist, dribbling down my fingers. All but my middle and ring—those are busy playing inside, not out.

Something is happening to me. Bad. Can’t get back into my right mind, don’t know how.

Wanna cum thinking about him cumming inside. Wanna cum. Want him to cum again. Wanna squirt all over his balls, pumping me hot and full, helpless.

_Mm_!

But don’t go too rough, don’t… I don’t want to climax without him. I guess there’s a reason for it I don’t wanna think about, but I do _not_ want to cum without him here.

Calm calm calm. Calm down. Slow down, just… slow it down. _Mmf_. Slower.

All alone in here under the spout, and I still haven’t really washed off the cum streaked over my belly. Kinda cradling it away from the water, giving it just one more minute on me, come on. Just to give me that smell. That texture. Gliding my fingertips through it, then nudging them farther down and gooping his jizz around my—

God.

Something is so wrong with me.

It’s like something about him is rewiring my brain. I can’t stop.

But I’ve still—I’ve got other logistics to figure out, shit. Got to figure out, um—already called out of work today to be here for the repairman, but I’ve got to be back at my office tomorrow, so I’ve got to head back to my place tonight. Heat wave is still setting the real world boiling outside, so I can’t just throw my guest back out on the street, I’m not cruel. I could—

Mm. _Mmm_. Stop it. Don’t cum, not now.

Kinda wondering if he’s down to come with me, too.

Check my place out, maybe he could… stay longer. However long he needs. Really, really make himself at home.

Inside me.

One of those _fat_ loads inside me. Extremely deep. The kinda way that sticks forever.

God. Like now my brain keeps telling me how hot it’d be to get really, truly inseminated. Impregnated. Knocked up _real_ easy, way too easy. I couldn’t stop him. I don’t have the ability.

Um.

Could he—? Could he even?

Um—

Right, right, right, yeah, need to get out of the shower, be back downstairs for the A.C. guy, need to be available. Shit. Dammit.

I need my phone. Need to check on that kinda thing.

Now it’s my brain processes circling the drain, and I can’t stop it.

Wrench my damn fingers away and actually wash off, for real. Shut the water off, dry off. Get a move on already.

Grab my dry clothes lastly, put my bra and shorts back on for however long their sweaty torture lasts. Actually leave myself presentable again with the plain white tee I borrowed from Daddy’s closet. I’ll… buy him a new pack later.

More like jog back downstairs than sneaking, but my guy’s got the T.V. taking care of him, so I just reeeach over beside him over the back of the sofa for my phone, and I don’t know if he looks at me, because I do _not_ meet his eyes right now.

Fingers sweaty again already over the keypad on my screen.

Like, it’s actually something someone should know, in general. Don’t just rely on what feels like common sense, get a real, actual answer about it.

I’m about to delete this from my search history right after, a hundred percent. Seriously the worst question. But it’s better to know.

So—“can pokemon get people pregnant?”

Peek back over toward the sofa one more time while I tiptoe sticky and squeaky into the kitchen, hide a second. Then read.

First result is a message board, exactly my question asked by someone else here. Figures. Whatever. Click the link, here we go. Brace myself.

Top user-voted answer: “stop fucking your pokemon.”

Okay, well—

I’m not mad.

But I know I’ve got a face.

Top reply to that answer is the original poster: “no.”

Goddamn this planet.

No, okay, right below that, this answer’s long and actually real. I’m reading. Nobody wants to research it, nobody wants to fund the research, contentious ethical debate within the scientific yadda yadda—oh shit.

This internet stranger saying, “—but some researchers have used chromosomal counts to suggest that, at least potentially, humans could be genetically compatible with some or even most pokemon. There’s no documented cases of any human woman (or human transgender man) conceiving a pokemon or laying an egg, but on the other hand, who would come forward explaining publicly that a pokemon knocked them up?”

Oh hell.

The best they can end all that with is “aw shucks, _maybe_ ”?

I read all that, and I can feel some last ditch effort from my gut telling me that this should be enough to make me stop—

But there’s only one voice in my brain I can hear, and it’s whispering me closer and closer to some kinda thought I don’t think I can turn back from once I get to it.

Kinda clutching my knees together?

Oh.

I’m wet again.

Kinda breathing fast.

My lips are dry.

Pretty sure two or three days ago I was specifically not into pokemon. Especially the Hypno ones.

I think I’m… concerned.

Oh god.

He’s looking at me.

Catch him in the corner of my eye and here he is, slinked up into the kitchen beside me, silent, hunched over and squinting straight into my eyes and I can’t blink. I can’t—I don’t know what.

He’s hard.

He’s _so_ hard.

Dick throbbing inches away from me again already, ready to go. Pink and sticky, slick.

Look back up to his gaze, and he’s looking at my phone. I, um—

He looks back to me.

Lifts one meaty hand, splays all his long fat fingers, and they come around my phone. He takes it. Silently, deliberately lifts it out from my paralyzed fingers, turns, sets it somewhere behind him. Away from me.

And with a hunch in his spine that really shouldn’t make him look that tall, looks back to me. Right into me.

Throbs.

He sets both his heavy hands on my shoulders, and all the nerves under my skin are on fire, and he swivels me. Directs me toward the kitchen island, the bare countertop.

Bends me.

I can’t stop him. I can’t blink.

Lay on my hands and elbows on the granite, and I swear to god my feet are squeaking farther apart from each other inch by inch, and I’m the one doing this. Staring at my hands as they bundle into fists in front of me. Sweating. I’m dripping.

Thick fingers brushing around _thuh_ —the front of my shorts. Tugging the ties loose. Tugging them down my thighs, all the way, and they pool at my heels.

He steps up right behind me, and I can’t say a word.

He squeezes his dick between my legs.

But my underwear stays on.

And his hands come down to my thighs, and he motions my legs back _tighter_ around him, not spread.

I _whimper_.

I didn’t mean to.

He twitches against my bare legs and right _beneath_ the cotton keeping him from rubbing me directly, like I’m about ready to break down and just beg him to—no, no, no, come on, keep it together, don’t—

He’s grinding right into my thigh gap. He’s grinding against me. Fucking going for it.

God he’s _hot_. Big. Hard. Hot.

He _would_ be good inside. I know it. He’d be _really_ good inside me, if he just—he has me right where he wants me, he could just—come on, just slip one fat finger around the elastic and drag my last defense out of the—

God.

Oh god.

_Almost_ grinding right against my clit, so close to just—

Why can’t I _stoppp_.

I just want him to fuck me into a sobbing blubbering useless _mess_.

Dig my own face into the crook of my elbows and I can’t pretend I’m not moaning. All I can do is cover just how red my cheeks are getting, try to cover up just how bad I wanna get fucking _wrecked_.

He snorts. Grabs one of my wrists—no, come _onnn_ , at least let me hide my face—but he grabs it and tugs it back down with him, forces my hand into position by—

He’s fucking right into my palm. Smacking that sticky flat tip straight against my skin, fucking my hand again, and I know he’s gonna make me take every fat _drop_ again, I couldn’t ever stop him.

Virile.

Cushy, _virile_ jizz.

Hot, thick, creamy sperm swimming around in my defenseless womb, plugged up airtight, no chance at not getting knocked up as every long, thick rope squirts straight inside me.

Helpless.

Once he’s bloated, balls deep, I’m done for. No going back.

So _easy_ for him. I’m so easily trained.

I can’t tell anymore if I’m moaning or panting or what, just—some kinda wet noises melting off my tongue and I can’t hide what they mean. Sound like I’m in heat.

Sound like a horny little kitten _mewling_ for him.

I wanna cum all over his fat dick. I wanna cum. Want him to cum. Want him to cum inside. Wanna cum. Want his dick.

Can feel him hammering into my palm, smacking me like he’s _really_ gonna fill me up. Fat fuzzy hands on my hips, holding on. Grinding. _Thrusting_.

“Cuh—”

Don’t say it. Don’t actually say it. Come on, please, don’t—

“Cum insuh—”

But I _want_ it.

Leaking my own drool over the granite and I can’t figure out what my tongue’s doing anymore. Can’t think straight. Shouldn’t think straight, no need….

“Cum—cummm insi—”

I freeze.

He stops thrusting.

The doorbell’s chiming off.

Right FUCKING now the doorbell’s chiming off, and I push back up to my elbows and look back over my shoulder, and he’s looking back the same, off toward the front door.

I’m about to open the door and strangle that repairman’s goddamn—

_Oh_.

Okay, my real guest is thrusting again. Harder and faster. _Throbbing_. He’s gonna finish first.

Gasp my breath back in and bite my lip, and just—hold my hand in place for him, get ready to clench him tight and full.

Come on. Goddammit. Come on, just—fuck my hand _full_ , hurry.

God, he’s still so warm.

Hurry, come on.

Doorbell chimes off again, and I’ve got a Hypno fucking my thighs while I’m about to catch a fistful of his jizz, and I yell breathless back out the kitchen, “ _Gimme a minute_!”

The guy with more of my attention snorts from just behind me.

Ah.

Tensing up. Throbbing. He’s cumming.

Mm.

Smooshes his dick flat against my palm, and he bloats up against me, seals me up. My own hand dangling hot and wet in front of my legs, and I feel his shaft thicken even more between me for his cum welling through it, feel the first rope squirt wet and unprotected into my makeshift cumdump, inseminated.

Lay my face back in my elbow and just—

I can’t pull my hand away. Spurt after spurt, thick and heavy, squirted right into me, and I’m trapped down here just taking it. However thick his load is this time, like it or not, I’m just gonna take it. Every drop.

This is seriously how it’s gonna feel.

God. Goddammit.

I want him to cum inside so bad.

But I need him to hurry, he’s gotta… finish up, right. Come on, gimme.

Feels like my hand is getting full again. But he’s still shooting. I still can’t hold it all.

The seal pops. The next gooey squirt bubbles right down between my index and middle fingers, leaks really thick all of a sudden when there’s no more suction keeping his jizz contained.

I’m dribbling him everywhere. Not enough room to hold his whole load. Fresh semen leaking down my fingers, and his warm shaft keeps twitching between them.

Wait. My hand’s free now.

Kinda push back to standing straight a little faster than might be sexy, and just kinda— _gently_ nudge out from underneath my Hypno guy and wrangle my shorts back up over my knees with my clean hand, patter over all hot and sticky to the sink, seriously wash off as fast as I—

Fast and heavy knock I hear echo from the door, not the kinda knock of someone who’s waiting around long for someone to answer.

“ _Coming_!”

Or I could have been. Jackass.

Snatch a paper towel to dry my hands and turn back around to my Hypno guy, and he’s still squinting my way with that look in his eyes, that bent in his posture that all I can think about is that I should seriously still be underneath him. This is ridiculous.

His hardon’s still rigid. Dripping. Big, hot, still needs something nuzzled around it.

Makes me _really_ wanna—

Goddammit, I just raise both my damp hands flat and motion at him, lower my voice. “Just chill here for one second. I will be right back.”

Tie the knot of my shorts again as I jog to the front door, and I have to tell myself not to scowl _this_ much as I yank the handle open.

There’s another guy on the front porch, finally. Little lighter than me, but my height. Clean shaven, overalls, one hand around his toolbox and the other in his pocket.

Same kinda frown on him as I’ve got, I guess.

He says first, “Your air conditioner on the fritz?”

Temper my tone much as I can, but I mutter, “Got it in one.”

Maybe a little harsh.

Push off from the door to make room for him, and I tell him, “That big A.C. box thing is on our roof, this way.”

The guy just breathes in, says, “First thing I need to see is the breakers. Those should be in your basement.”

Purse my lips.

Don’t bother with a goddamn word.

Just turn down the hall to show him the stairs to the _basement_ , fine, and now I hear those footsteps following me, echoing heavy through the hardwood just from the size of his boots. How’s he even wearing boots in this weather?

Swing the door downstairs open, and I step aside rather than lead him down. He steps up to the threshold, jingles his keys in his pocket, just stares down a second while chewing his cheek or something, breathes loud through his nose.

They’re _stairs_ , my dude. Just walk down them.

Flip the lightswitch for him just to be extra generous, and I tell him, “I’ll be up here if you need me. You need me?”

He jingles his keys again, glances vaguely my way. Not lecherously. I’m just a jackass customer, and he’s just a jackass… in general.

He can’t be suspicious, right? No way. No shit I’m hot and sweaty, dude. Heat wave. My excuse is impenetrable.

Oh shit.

Does he smell anything? Do I smell like cum?

Do I actually, really have the scent of being marked, or something?

But he just looks back down the stairwell after a second. Breathes in deep, breathes out quick.

“I’ll let you know.”

He lifts his hand out from his pocket to balance against the wall, and takes his first clomp downstairs, one step at a time.

He’s two steps down before I have already swiveled myself on one heel _directly_ back toward the kitchen.

Still got something very important to finish up before—

Oh thank god.

My Hypno guy is still here right by the kitchen threshold, one hand on the frame, eyes tracking mine the instant I’m back, and he’s still mostly _hard_.

Looking me right in the eye, and a second later I’m not even really thinking about it as the first thing I do back out of view from the stairs is fall to my knees and suck. Suck him clean, wipe up all this mess I made with the rag of my tongue.

_Mmm_.

He kinda shivers at my first kiss, and right right right, gentle with the tip—he’s still sensitive. Lap over the shaft, kiss away the spill that leaked farther down. Wrap my hand around his thick root to steady him, and gentle, sweetly—give him back those little kitten licks, lap away all this thick juicy cum I need to clean up.

His hand comes around to my cheek, caressing me back, mm… encouraging me. I’m very encouraged. Both his hands find me. Pet me, keep me down here, tell me I don’t ever need to stop.

Tastes so good. Really glad he’ll still let me down here while his stamina’s recovering….

Maybe I can get him ready again? For real? So soon, but come on, we got interrupted. Need a do-over.

Think I can do that.

Maybe still a little sensitive, but pull my lips back to his big flat tip, curl my face around him, take a quick breath. Glide him down right against the edge of my throat, and— _mm_! Mm. Pop him deep.

Stay right here and stare back up in those eyes, check with him to make sure his little fuckpet’s doing a good job.

He’s still looking down at me without breaking his gaze. In control. Stroking the tips of my hair, my jaw. His whole face set stoic, or subtle, or something I still can’t read. I don’t need to read. Not my place to.

All the white fluff around his neck looks even fluffier, more inviting from down here. Make him look bigger. And—his pendulum’s catching the light again, shining over me. So pretty.

He makes me feel so nice like this.

And he’s still really slimy, lubed up. Little dregs of his jizz still coating the wrinkles I’m slurping down. So easy to just slide him down my gullet. Comfy.

I’m really glad he likes my throat rippling around his dick.

I _really_ like him in here.

Floor is kinda rough on my knees without a cushion down here under me, but—god. It just doesn’t matter. It seriously doesn’t. Why am I bringing it up at all?

_Glkk_.

Mm. Okay, pull back slowly, let him—mm, pop free. But keep him in my mouth, slurp around the middle of his shaft, don’t get him too messy. I’m _cleaning_. Don’t get sloppy on him now. Slurp him clean, swallow it all down. No excuses.

Just kinda wanna… feel his balls again, too. Kinda drift my free hand underneath while I lick, give him a careful squeeze.

Oh god. They’ve both still so _heavy_ , dense. He’s got a lot left.

He’s got a _lot_ left. What the hell.

He can seriously still fill me to the brim.

Am I trembling? I’m soaked. Dripping and sweaty. If I invite this guy back to my place when we’re done here, I don’t—I can’t ever leave him. He’s gonna have me. I don’t know what kind of my own thinking I could do anymore, if I’d really count as the same person.

I’m just listening to this voice in my brain telling me all that, and it’s soothing, and I’m listening, and it just sounds… nice. It sounds really good. Sounds right.

Fuzzy, beefy fingers on my cheek, flexing over my skin, getting less gentle with me.

Yeah. Take him back down. Get him ready, throat him longer this time. Get my tongue tickling his balls. No excuses.

Line him up, suck him down, pop him— _mm_! Mm… yeah. I could—

“Well, the breaker wasn’t tripped, so I need to check your disconnect.”

_Fhrrk_ —! FUCK that guy.

The sound of boots clomping back up the stairs from somewhere that same direction as the guy’s voice, and now I’ve got to pop my main man back out of my throat when— _mm!_ —he should be inside it _forever_. Wipe my mouth dry, and—

Actually, my Hypno guy keeps his hands on me, holding me down here. Doesn’t really let me go. Not really in the mood for me to get up.

So… I stay down here a second. Wrap my fist back around his shaft, just… stroke him back forth a little, slow and quiet.

Part of one wall between us and some dude neither of us know, while I keep stroking my own dude back to a fuller mast. Kinda… damn.

Take a deep breath, just turn my head back toward the doorway, call, “Check my what?”

I can hear the long, heavy goddamn sigh the repairguy makes. Like what he really wants is for me to hear that. But I don’t hear him clomping over to me. This isn’t _too_ risky yet.

“Your disconnect’s going to be on the roof, with your blower.”

Can feel my eyes bulge while I’m licking over my guy’s tip.

“My _excuse_ me?”

“Your fan. Your big air conditioner box thing. That thing. You got a hatch up to the roof in this place?”

“Yeah, upstairs, by the—you saw the stairs going up? It’s up those.”

He really was a jackass over the phone. I don’t need to play _him_ the good host.

One big furry hand shifts to the back of my head about now. Draws me lower down, presses me right underneath between his legs. Aims my whole face at his balls. Gotcha….

There’s some boot-scuffing from the hallway, a couple tentative clomps, and the rattle of a toolbox, and finally I hear heavy padded steps up the carpet of the stairs. No response. That guy’s just getting to it.

Damn.

It really is still boiling in here.

Curl my lips around my guy’s whole sac, make sure I—hell yeah. Hell yes. Hell yes.

Suck every juicy, fuzzy inch into my cheeks, give both his sweaty, scratchy balls another wash in my mouth. They deserve it. They earned it, over and over.

Mostly looking forward to air conditioning again so that this guy will be the one comfortable. Help him cool off in here, make _everything_ comfortable for him. That’s a promise.

Nobody to interrupt me right now as I gargle him one more time, swish my spit around all over him, smear my own face dirtier with the little strands of jizz and drool I didn’t do a good enough job sucking away.

No need to talk now. Just to suck. Just to make it clearer and clearer that making him feel right is my only priority. _Only_. Anything that makes him feel better, I’ve got to do it. I have to. It doesn’t even matter anymore if I want to or not, I _have_ to. I have to.

One more snort above me. Another meaty hand meets the back of my head, both of them holding on tight enough that it feels like he’s using me to steady himself.

Is this good? Does he want it dirtier? Cleaner? Sloppier?

If he could just speak, I’d never have to think for myself again. Just follow orders. Whatever he tells me, just do it. Instantly. Throw myself down his dick with the snap of his fingers, choke myself til he says I’m allowed to take a couple breaths, plunge back down again, gag on his slimy, wrinkly pouch til my eyes are rolling back up past his.

Right now, just… slop his heavy balls around in my cheeks. Then wipe them down, rub the thick of my tongue over his seam, suck away my mess. Swallow.

Where does he wanna blow this time…?

Those hands laid on me quit holding tight—they tug me back. Change of plan.

He yanks me loose from his sac with a pop and a big couple ropes of spit left dangling shiny between us, and those snap just as quick, recoil straight down over my chin.

He holds me far back enough again that I get to look groggily back up at him, and I try not to blink. I pant, but he’s—his chest is really going. Heavy breathing. Looking down at me and all I can tell is that there’s definitely a look in his eyes, whatever it is he wants.

“Where do you wanna…?”

Don’t need to finish the thought. He reaches down for my wrists, pulls me up higher on my knees, pulls me to my feet until his dick, thick, slimy, shiny, is wobbling right below my groin. Extremely ready.

Oh god. Whatever he wants, I’ll do it. He can just do it. Anything. I won’t—

But only one hand stays on my wrist, and instead of positioning me, he walks. He just holds on, leads me.

Back into the family room. The sofa.

Breathing heavy, no shit. He slinks right back around the corner of the sectional, pulling my pitiful self along for the risk, and just as erect as it takes to be _seen_ , he plops right back down in his middle seat, right in the flow of the fan.

Don’t have any strength left in my body to make my own way. I just… this is kinda too much.

But he pulls me toward my seat in the corner, and I can’t do anything but sit down next to him, let him drag my hand back around his shaft.

Deep breath, and this time he closes his eyes a long second, takes the cool air back in.

I just—I stroke him off right here, I’m not just gonna stop. I won’t stop. But my gaze is darting between his relaxed face and the goddamn stairs, just in view from here.

Did I already hear the repairman clattering open the hatch? I don’t—god, I don’t know.

It’s okay, it’s fine, it’s okay. Even when he comes back downstairs, he won’t be able to see too much from the stairwell, just… he’ll only be able to see either of our upper bodies. Unless he comes in here to talk more. Fucking classic.

Am I seriously going to—?

Well… yeah.

I’m not just gonna stop.

Wrap my fingers closer around my guy’s root and lean in deep, wrap my lips around his tip. Throat him again. Now.

_Mllrk_.

Get him there. Get him to cum. No excuses.

Warm, fuzzy hand closes back over my neck, petting me slow.

I’m doing good… I’m being good. Just get him there. Only priority.

Pull him back out my throat gently, gentle as I can, just take a quick breath. Take another— _hrrk_ —plunge. Kiss the ring of my fingers around his root, and—let my hand fall away. Kiss his pouch directly. Tongue his musky wrinkles hello, wriggle my tongue inside just a little bit.

Pull back out slow, just slow enough not to gag, not to cough. Quick breath. Take another— _glrff_.

Long, fat fingers stroking my nape, and it really is okay. I’m okay.

Is that seriously calming me down…? That’s weird. But I’m glad. It makes me happy.

Pull back… breathe… plunge.

_Glrkk_.

And gives his balls another little kitten lick from here, how much of them I can reach.

I wish I could get louder for him. He can facefuck me after that guy leaves, he knows that, right? However he wants to use me. It’s up to him. I don’t have a say.

If that guy wasn’t here, would my guy already be bending me over again…?

Curl my face back a little bit, just enough to get a simpering look up, see if he’s watching me. Oh, I’m—tearing up. Kinda blurry. But—I can still see him. He sees me. He’s watching, squinting deep at me. That look in his eyes, won’t let me stop.

I’m really glad.

Pull back and breathe, deep breath through my nose, and this time take him _harder_ —

Clomping.

Boots clomping down the stairs.

Half my brain ready to fucking curse and the other half raising me back into a regular sit, wiping my jaw, telling me to _breathe_ , no shit, just breathe. At a _normal_ pace. Calm.

“You got a blown fuse,” repairguy calls down before I see him shuffling downstairs into my own view, boots first, one step at a time. “Easy fix. Got a new one in my truck. You’re lucky wasn’t something I need to order, because I can’t keep every piece of equipment I might need in my truck—”

I watch him very _normally_ as the guy steps back down into mutual eyesight, and he’s staring between me and my real, actual guest, who’s—

Oh. Who’s also looking at the repairman.

So the repairman glances between either of us, and he _can’t_ see what’s going on, no matter what it looks like. It doesn’t look like anything.

He has no reason to come in here with us. He wouldn’t. He won’t. Maintain the uncomfortable stare, and that will make him _go away_.

Please don’t come in here. God, please.

Repairman clomps back down into the hall proper. Not moving toward us, not moving toward the door. Just scratches his nose, scratches his neck.

“Well. Won’t know if it’s just a fuse until I get the new one installed, anyway. Then we’ll see if the unit gets to running.”

Just stare.

“Okay.”

“And your filter is getting close to needing replacing, so I’m replacing that now, too. Putting an additional charge for that,” he says.

“ _Okay_ ,” I say.

Glances between either of us again, halfcocked gaze lingering on my Hypno guy, and the repairman rolls his eyes. Turns toward the _door_ , finally, clomps his way back out to his truck or where the fuck ever, out of sight.

I hear the door creak back open, hear the clomps fading back outside. Don’t hear the door close.

Both furry hands come over my head, or my shoulder, or somewhere holding me tight.

Okay, _really_ fast, quick breath— _hlkk_.

Hold it. Just hold it. Don’t want him flaring up on me right now, so keep it to a minimum before we’re back alone. Can almost suck a fresh breath through my nostrils, but— _glk_ —not quite. It’s okay. Just hold it down.

Mm, he’s twitching. I’m a good little fuckpet. Yeah, he’s throbbing. Mm.

Bloating. He’s bloating, oh god, not—

Mm.

I’m stuck.

Mm?

Yeah. Extremely sealed around his dick again. Okay. Okay.

Just keep it down. Be a good girl. This is what you’re here for, no excuses. Make it good for him, just let your throat keep swallowing around him like this.

But there’s still a kinda panic rising like bile in my stomach. Even if I’m not immediately visible down here with my face in his lap, it’s a pretty obvious sight if that guy walks in and just—

Oh my god. Bootsteps. Already.

Come on, no. Not yet. Please!

I can fucking hear the bootsteps coming closer just outside, and I’m still reflexively gulping spit and pre down my gullet like my body’s trying to gasp one more breath just out of reach.

Deepthroating a Hypno. Eagerly, sloppily.

Mm.

I’m still sealed. I’m still down here, soaking his shaft in the convulsions of my pharynx. Fuzzy fingers on top still petting me all over, one set stroking over my nape like I’m seriously just… a kitten in his lap.

God… yeah, okay, anything he wants. Doesn’t matter. I’m just here for him.

But the _bootsteps_ —

Mm. Loosening?

Mm. Glp— _hrkk_!

Rip myself free from his dick to a ramrod straight sit, gasping already into my goddamn wrist as I swipe it hard over my mouth. _Breathe_. Quietly. Slower.

My guy’s still watching me. The whole time. His eyes over my mouth, panting, to over my breasts, kinda pounding over my heart, to way lower down.

And as bootsteps creak back over the hardwood just in the hall, my Hypno guy slips his hand _firmly_ over my bare, sweaty thigh. Squeezing.

Deep nasal breath from the hall, and I try holding my own as the repairguy comes back in view, big flat filter and stuff under one arm. He wipes his forehead with his sleeve.

“Give me a few minutes with these, and your unit should probably be all back in order. We’ll find out.”

He gives me a look. Like a quick look up and down of what he can see, not just for if I heard him or not.

It’s both me and my guy giving him a look back.

Deep breath, and I just say very normally, “Appreciate it.”

Look, just don’t come in here. Please. Just go upstairs, fix the thing.

_Ooh_.

Really squeezing my thigh. One thick finger rubbing under the cuff of my shorts. Feeling me up.

The repairguy sniffs, glances between either of us, turns back for the stairs. Shuffles one boot up at a time, free hand on the wall. Gives us one more look while he can.

And another toasty finger _squeezes_ —squeezes under my shorts.

Trying not to flinch. Really trying.

And the repairguy’s out of sight. Breathe out slowly, shivery. Deep sigh….

My guy looks back at _me_ again.

And his other hand comes over my clothes. My shorts. The ties. He grabs the end of one, tugs it loose. Tugs me loose.

Slithers all those fat fingers under the hem. God. Um. Skipping my underwear, going under that too.

Going—

_Yeah_ he’s already squeezing one thick furry finger inside me. Never had—oh god that tickles, there’s soft little hairs all over, _all_ over, but it—fuzzy and weird, like a—I don’t know like what.

He’s inside me for real. Can’t tell myself it doesn’t feel… right. Really good. He’s— _wriggling_ , flexing, I’m squeezing around his knuckles. Fat fingers. He’s thick. Oh god.

My eyes feeling weak again and all they can look up at are his, and he’s—he won’t look away. Won’t let me get away. I can’t get away.

Up at his…?

Oh… I’m laying flatter. Kinda pushed back into my corner, down into it. Feel his knees squeezing up around either of my shins. Climbing over me? He’s above me. Looking at me.

Squirming around _thick_ inside me and I can’t—I don’t have a brain cell left that can tell me I’m not his to squirm around in. His. Not my own.

I’m curled down into the corner for real and it’s hard to tell if I’m breathing right. Panting…? That came quick.

God he’s curling, he’s the one curling, _mmm_ oh god please—

His other hand in my face. On my jaw… prodding his thumb over my open lips. Looking me straight in the eye, fat, fuzzy finger stroking my mouth. Pushing inside it.

Close my lips around him because I know I should. He wants me to. I want to.

He pops the first knuckle of his thumb through my lips, and my tongue’s already on it. Under it. Sucking like a meek girl right here, lapping, burning up. Mewling…? Not yet.

And his finger is _fucking_ me. Thick. Warm. I’m so glad. He’s so—I’m so glad he wants to. He’s _nnnn_ —oh god. God. Oh fuck. Shit, come on, I can last longer than this— _god_ , oh please, oh god, I can’t—

I _can’t_ —

Don’t moan don’t moan don’t moan _please_ hold it in don’t—

Cumming. Cumming on him. I’m cumming I’m cumming he’s making me I can’t stop I’m cum’n I can’t—finger tastes _good_ , oh—

_Hmnnn_. Mn. _Mng_.

Oh _god_.

Why’s he so thick. Just his fingers.

_Mm_.

Oh—god.

Hah.

Oh god.

God….

Takes… it takes another second before I can let my toes stop clenching, consciously. But I think my eyes are still shaking. Hard to… I don’t know. Bleary filter in front of me.

I came too hard from just that. I… that was way too easy.

Whatever’s happening to me, I think I’m pretty far gone.

But I can keep going. Forever.

_Mm_! Oh fuck. Pulling his other finger out, mm. God. Shit. Okay. I’m still here.

Blinking back the stuff in front of my eyes, and I can see his again. Same squint. He never looked away. He saw me start to finish, everything.

Just now he pulls his finger out from my lips. Slow and easy. Wet. I’m still—I’m sucking it right up until he pops it out, newly stringy with the drool off my tongue.

Didn’t think any finger covered in fuzz could still taste… really good. Really good.

Repairguy didn’t even interrupt this time. Finally.

But I lift my weary head a little, and I can see my guy still has a full and twitching mast in dire, dire, dire need of attention. _Throbbing_. Way thicker than fingers. I’ve got to do anything he wants. Whatever he wants, it doesn’t matter. Stick it anywhere.

Push my elbows back against the sofa corner, lift myself up a little more fully, and my hunched, squinting, throbbing guest pulls back to give me the room for that. Oh, we’re gonna—

No way. That sound. For real?

It’s the air conditioner, thrumming back to life all throughout the house. Back to _life_. Holy shit, it’s real. It’s kinda… loud, after a while of not hearing it.

And in this ridiculously cool relief, the first thing the two of us right here are gonna do—is listen to boots clomping back down the stairs, one step at a time. Fine. This time, it’s fine.

Wait. Fuses. Shouldn’t he have cut the breaker before messing with fuses…?

Not my business. He’s still alive.

“You’re welcome,” dude says just stepping down into view, dirty old filter under the crook of the arm he’s not using to steady himself along the wall. “Should get bearable in here pretty quick. Replaced the filter, too, so you won’t have to keep that on your mind.”

Just don’t come into the living room. All that matters about you. Just don’t.

Me and my guy watching from over the back of the sofa as the repairguy steps back onto this floor, wiping his brow, setting the old filter down, pulling a tiny clipboard out from his work bag.

“Nice to have an easy fix for once…” he mutters, scribbling on his board. He looks up just a second, eyeing my guy and then me. “You writing a check now, or should I just leave the bill?”

Only just starting to get impatient, I swear.

“I’m housesitting for my folks. Leave the bill.”

Repairguy shrugs, scribbles some more. Rips off the top sheet of paper from his thing.

And fucking walks toward me with it oh _no_ he doesn’t—

“Okay, thanks, just leave it—leave it on the little table by the door, thanks! Thanks. Appreciate the fix.”

Stops in his tracks, thank god, giving me a blank look like he still doesn’t like me but doesn’t care. Turns for the door, clomps over around the corner in the hall.

“Just leaving it on this table, then.”

I hear the door creaking shut again, finally, but not before one more thing from the guy:

“You two take it easy.”

Did he—?

Doesn’t matter.

Door clicks shut, and we’re all alone again. Just the two of us.

I’m still dripping wet. And my guy’s dick has not taken a break from waiting to _stuff_ me. Fill me full.

Staring down at him. Watching him twitch again, throb upward. Still slick from me throating the whole meaty thing.

Only look up again when a thick, fuzzy finger slides back against my lips. Parts them. Presses inside. Makes me suck, and… I do.

Looking back into his eyes and I can’t look away again. Can still see him throbbing in my peripheral vision, but I can’t get away from his eyes bearing into mine.

Like right this moment, it’s the brunt of the thought hitting me that his next load is probably going into me for real. Inside me.

Not that I want to, but… I don’t think I’m getting out of this one.

Sucking down his fat finger with a look on my face I know isn’t right, and it doesn’t really feel like I have a say in what kinda person he’s gonna turn me into.

Just for a second he pops his finger loose again, lets me gasp my own heavy air. I know I’m toast. I’m already gone, and I don’t know if he’s ever gonna let me come back.

But I say, as much as I can without rasping it, “Be more comfortable upstairs, now. The bed….”

Yeah. The bed.

At least suggest a place of my own choosing where he’s gonna take me over forever.

How’d I even get it into my head that this is such a big thing…? I just know it is. I don’t know how.

I don’t even know how I stumble up here with him. In a total haze.

God, the air feels so good….

My back pressing into the sheets below us, wrists sliding up under the pillow, open, vulnerable. My guy above me with the meaty curves in his belly, his shoulders, built for weighing somebody down _deep_ beneath him.

I’m his somebody. God. He’s gonna wreck me.

I’m psyched up for creampie sex with a Hypno. There’s, uh… no going back from that.

Looking up into his eyes that I can’t read, and I get the feeling if I don’t back out of this now, I can’t ever back out of it. Like I’m really giving myself up. Like it’s my gut’s last ditch effort to tell me something’s up in a bad way. _Don’t_. It’s the last little voice I hear from myself in my brain.

But I can’t.

I really need to let him fuck me up, inside out.

Flinch as I feel cooled hands on my hips, brushing under the hem of my shorts, tugging them down. Exposing me.

_Mm_.

Biting back a sudden breath.

His deep, baggy squint turns next to his treasure, like he’s peering right through my underwear, black and silken, still soaked.

The little strength I have left in my body I use for lifting my ankles, let him get my shorts really out of the way. Reach my own hands slowly back to my shirt, slide it off myself for him. All for him.

Pull it off from around my face, my hair, and first thing I see again is him looking.

You like it, guy? That kinda bra I saw you admiring. Soft dark cups laced in the silhouettes of roses, sexy in the kinda way that’s all for you. I get mine sized professionally.

He likes to touch, so— _mmf_. He grabs. Gives me one big squeeze, sustained.

Bite it back. Hold it back. Hold it in right now.

Just a whisper, but…

“Fh—fits me pretty good, right?”

Like how you’re gonna make me fit you _perfect_.

All up to him now. However he wants me… that’s what’s gonna happen.

He meets my gaze again. _Squeezes_ a second more, lets go. And his big meaty hands pull back down to under my thighs. Gets his thick grip around them, and he lifts my legs higher. Wider.

Spreads me.

Still kinda sweating down every inch of my body here.

Two fingers he spends slipping my underwear a couple inches up my thighs, out of the way of my pussy, and he’s been throbbing this whole time. He angles— _hnff_ , god— _directly_ in position for his first thrust.

I’m sprawled and spread below him, lined up for him like a fucktoy, and he’s so heavy. I can’t get out from under him. No condom—he’s going raw. I don’t have a pill, I don’t have anything.

The only voice in my brain is telling me this is just how he likes it. And so this is how we need to do it. And I can’t stop him.

I can’t stop him.

I _can’t_ stop him.

Oh god.

And he’s pushing in _slow_.

Oh god he’s going in. He’s—thick. He’s thick.

_Mm_.

Spreading me open to my core and I can’t keep my lips shut either. Mewling. I’m—it’s my eyes I can barely keep open.

His fur is still hot, sweaty. Lowering his belly over mine, weighing me down, pushing _deeper_ , deeper deeper deeper. Not gonna stop til he’s bottomed out. Pulling his hands back off my breasts up to my wrists, holding me back. Holding me down. My fingers are all twitching, grasping, and they can’t do anything. I’m trapped.

He’s _thick_.

He’s—

Mmf….

Balls are so heavy. Smooshing against my skin, resting on me.

He’s bottomed out.

I feel right. I’m doing… right. Filled up. Deep dicked, balls deep.

Balls deep inside me. I love that phrase. I _love_ that, holy shit. He’s stretching me out, _making_ me fit him. And he should be.

Plowed himself inside and holding long enough for me to get the true realization of just how full of him I am.

Hypno dick is… really good. It’s really really good. I’m way out of my league.

Kinda gaze back up at him, what attention I can muster… and he’s looking me in the eye. Not looking away.

Little glimmer of that pendulum hanging over his white fluff, and… I feel good here.

And he slides _slow_ , slow, slow back out, drags my hips with him like I’m whimpering, don’t want him to go. Please don’t. Please keep me. I’ll beg, please. Make me. Please make me.

He’s pulled back within the first inch of me, back to the point of plunging, and please, please make me take it. Gimme. I want to be good—

_Ah_.

Full plunge.

“Hhh— _ah_!”

Oh _god_ all the way at once _thank you_ oh shit he’s so _thick_ I love him.

Plowing me. Finished being gentle so soon, pulling back and fucking me _big_ now, deep thrusts, _rough_ , no asking me, just taking me.

Spanking my ass every thrust with those scratchy _heavy_ fuzzy packed balls like I’ve been a _bad_ girl, not gonna learn my lesson without some _bad_ red bruises on my butt, I swear I feel it happening.

Swear the neighbors are gonna hear me through the walls wailing and moaning so bad.

But I can’t help it because he kept me waiting so _longgg_ to get claimed.

Plugging his dick deep inside me like he’s got to teach me _exactly_ what my pussy’s good for and it’s good for nothing else, just him. Fuck me _hard_.

“More, keep going, more, please, _mm_ —! Mnh. _Ah—!_ ”

Pulling out and plowing back inside every second. Hard and fast. This is way too good.

I think he wants to keep me. Think he’s gonna keep me.

Prove I’m worth keeping, just… give him everything.

_Nnh_. Prove something. _Nuh_ , ooh. _Mm_.

Hard and fast. It’s really good.

Wrap my legs and my curled sweaty toes around his waist, beg him beg him beg him for the biggest load of his nuts as deep as he can flood me. Knock me up. Don’t let me get away. Please, please, make me take it. Don’t give me the choice. He deserves taking it, I want him to, _so_ much.

_Mmf_.

My wrists are sweating under his hands, might be losing the feeling in my fingers. Mm. I’m seriously trapped. He’s gonna knock me up. Can’t stop him. He’s gonna cum inside and his load’s gonna go _wild_ swimming inside me. I’m actually helpless.

He’s breeding me.

Oh god. Please breed me. Knock me up. Breed me. Every thick creamy virile drop right where I’m vulnerable, impregnate me. I can’t stop you. I do want it. I want it so bad. Don’t let me think on my own anymore. I wanna be a semen addict, shoot me up. Get me.

_Ah_ —god.

His dick is turning my brain inside out and that’s literally what I’m thinking right now. And I love it.

The tips of my fingers are shaking.

_Ooh_. No-fair good.

Can’t go back. My brain’s getting retrained on this.

_Oh_. Mm. Throbbing. Sealing me up a second, oh god—bigger. Little nubs swelling really deep, I feel it, not gonna let me ignore feeling every little nub pudging up and stretching me even _wider_ that deep. I promise I feel it, every nub. He’s gonna—

Wait. Yes. Can’t spill any. God, _yes_. He’s not gonna let me spill one drop of his sperm. My womb’s getting all of it.

_Hah_. Loosening up, he’s pulling back—

_Mmh_! Mm.

Plunged back inside me in one go. I’m just a fucktoy.

“Keep going _mmf_ please keep going please just don’t stop please keep going….”

Think he’s—it’s getting harder to see again, tears in my way. His face is getting blurry. I feel one furry hand coming off my wrist, and he’s sinking his fat fingers back around my breast, kneading me. Squeezing my bra up off from its perch, getting a genuine handful of my _sensitive_ nerves. Groping the wettest whimpers back out of me. Taking more of his territory. Still using me for—

_Hah_. Mnh.

Using me for support while he fucks me to his root, plows me.

Melting me into whoever he wants. His dick is—ah. I’m gonna cum. It’s coming. I’m cumming. I didn’t wanna cum before him, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m gonna—he’s not gonna slow down, oh god—I—

I can’t—

Ah.

_Ah_! Mmf. God, he won’t—mmmmmm. _Mm_.

Too much. I can’t—hnn. Don’t have—he’s too deep. He’s deep. He’s deep. I’m still cum’n I can’t st’p fuck me god help me it’s a lot ah fuck I can’t stop mmf he won’t stop he’s balls deep I wannim cum inside me breed me please breed me please don’t stop I _can’t_ —I can’t—I can’t—nnh. _Nnh_. Can’t stop cumming. Cn’t stop I’m still cum’n i cn’t thihnk

cn’t

hnnh

nn mmmm

unh

ah

ah.

Ah. _Nn_. Oh god.

Everything’s shaking.

I can see him.

I’m staring.

He won’t look away from me. And I—I can’t even close my eyes. Just staring back up.

Slowed his thrusting. Balls still smacking into— _nnh_ —me. Won’t quit, I’m still— _hnnuh_ —sensitive, he won’t stop. I don’t—want him to.

I can’t move…? I can’t.

Both his hands off my wrists, using both my tits for leverage against his shallow, deepest thrusts, fucking around inside me where anyone else’s raw dick doesn’t belong. I’m out of strength. Can’t even—oh… my legs are already limp. Already fallen numb around his fat plush thighs and now they’re bouncing with his thrusts.

One hand comes back to my thigh, and with the next thrust he lifts my ass higher up into the air with him, like he’s— _nn_. He’s fucking straight down into me.

And he’s throbbing…?

He’s cumming.

His hips sledging over top mine, flat against me, heavy. Balls deep. Heavy and full.

“Inside _inside_ inside inside inside _mmmg_ god balls deep big load please….”

Throbbing. He’s _throbbing_ , bloating up, sealing me airtight. God. Welled up even thicker again inside me. He’s—he’s cumming.

He’s cumming.

I can feel the first deep wet _squirt_ pulsing clean inside. It’s hot, it’s… I can feel it. Raw, thick, virile baby batter squirting directly where I need it. Halfway locked into a mating press so that even gravity’s making sure I get knocked up.

Either I can’t breathe or I can’t stop whimpering gibberish to him….

I can feel it. Every meaty twitch. Thick. Heavy. _Sensitive_ , I’m still—he’s extremely thick. I can feel every long creamy rope I’m milking out of him, forced to. Getting more sure with every gooey squirt that I can feel his tiny, virile sperm swimming around my womb on active, living instinct. Not letting me get away. Fat little nubs putting me on deep, deep lockdown.

It’s hot inside me.

Hot puff of air over my breasts, too. A snort. A _clench_ , nuh, sensitive—he’s holding on tight.

“Kh— _ah_ —”

I don’t—I can’t breathe. Holding my breath. My throat’s… I’m tightened up everywhere for him.

_Mff_. It’s a lot. It’s really a lot. He’s still cumming. _Packing_ his nut inside me.

Fat, fuzzy belly pinning mine while he gropes and creams me, and my brain demands I adore it. I can’t move or breathe and I love it. I love it so much. Sweat dripping down from his ass over mine, bare and quivering and _flattened_ under his dicking, and he’s teaching me how to take a full-body breeding.

Mind control…?

He’s always had me. I was always going to end up wrapped around his dick all the way to his wrinkly, musky pouch, pumped full of some wonderful stranger’s babies.

My lucky break I didn’t realize it in time.

The world just got another mommy, and she’s _never_ getting away. Never ever.

_Ooh_. Mmph. Thicker squirt that time. Think he’s… coming down now. Even his fat, full, sweaty balls have to take a break eventually. _Mm_. Just giving the stragglers a chance to squirm through inside me.

Hff.

Every one of my defenses patiently broken through, one by one….

Finally full of his cream.

Freshly fucked and bred full of his hot, cushy sperm. Like a good pet. Obedient… gonna listen to him from now on. I’ll be good. And he—

_Oof_. Mmf.

He just collapsed. Really sprawled on top of me now. Thick belly breathing hard over mine, flat against each other, fat twitching dick still tucked inside while the—hnn—nubs recede, let me go with I swear to god a fat gooey _pop_ inside me. But not pulling out. One last fuzzy twitch from his balls right against my butt, resting there, fully nutted.

Still kinda… shaking. The really good way. Fat cuddly Hypno lover sweating all over me while he takes my whole body for a pillow in his afterglow, nuzzling his chin directly between my breasts, still cupping either one as greedy as he can.

God, his… his dick is still really good. He’s not pulling out. Still keeping me pinned, still— _twitching_. Mm. I’m still keeping him warm. Our sweat is all I can smell, but… his musk and my cream filling are already catching up to my nose.

Ooh. And cool air.

Feels good over my hot skin. Deep breath.

“I gotta—”

Oh. Hmf. _Ah_.

Clear sniff of the mess he made me milk out of him. There it is. That’s how I smell all over now, too.

Is he…?

He’s asleep. His heavy stomach bobbing easy over mine, fingers loosened on my sore body. I’m his pillow. I get to be his pillow.

I’m not going anywhere. And my own pillow is kinda… really comfortable. Soaked with all the rest of the sheets, but… it’s comfy in a bigger way down here, staying on dick-warming duty while he grabs a nap.

Help him get all the rest he likes before we clean up and head back to my place tonight, redecorate, rearrange however’s gonna help him feel one hundred percent at home. Should take a sick day from work tomorrow….

Was I… saying something?

Mn. Not anymore.

Not anymore.

 

 

Back in a cute baggy tee, all my dirty clothes in a little plastic grocery bag, the grocery bag tucked into my backpack, and I’m packed up all nice again. Plants are watered, T.V.’s off, freezer is stocked full of ice cream we never got back to. Bed is…

I’ll replace those sheets tomorrow. Later.

Cool enough in here that I’m comfortable wearing clothes again, finally, but I’m kinda disappointed to be so clothed again anyway. Little disappointed in myself to be wearing anything around my guy. There shouldn’t be anything obscuring what he likes.

Case in— _mm_ —point: the pair of grabby hands reaching around at my tits from behind me while I’m zipping up my bag.

If he feels like shooting another load before we get home, maybe we’ll just… find a cafe or something, someplace with a bathroom. I don’t think I should make him wait. Not for my own convenience. And I would really, really love a snack anytime he feels like sharing.

Just glancing around at him, and his big fuzzy hands still feeling me up, kneading in wide circles—don’t think he’s gonna let me make it the whole trip without really really needing his dick again.

But he lets go of me, and I’ve—okay, got to stop biting my lip right now. About to go.

Swing open the front door, keys in hand, and right now that feels kinda… big. Like a whole thing I’m experiencing. New chapter of my life? Or someone’s.

Getting out here with my new guy, or him getting out here with his new girl, and mostly, I don’t think I can ever come back.

Hot as _hell_ out here. God.

I’m glad.

.

.

.

And five steps outside there’s a paper stapled to the closest power line that wasn’t here last time I passed by.

 

**MISSING HYPNO**

Harold aka Harry was last seen wandering near this neighborhood, he is friendly but is geriatric and may be easily confused, if seen please call us at Shady Beech Retirement Center any time of day or night, we miss him and are very worried!!

 

Little tear-off phone numbers at the bottom. Picture at the top.

The guy in the picture has a pendulum that’s hanging around his neckpiece, too.

Tilt my head back at the guy I got with me, and he’s not looking back at me. Not looking much of anywhere. Squinting out here with me even in the dimming sun at nothing and nowhere, already zoned out.

Hmm.

Pursing my lips.

I…

I’m just tugging my phone out a second here.

 

 

“Wow, thank you so much for taking care of Harry like that. He’s so quiet, he always slips out right under our noses to take walks outside, and he always comes back if we don’t go find him first, but with the heat wave this week, and the—and his, uh—gosh, we were just so worried—”

“M- _hm_ , yeah. Yeah. Very worried. I would be too, I’m sure.”

Kinda suntanny white dude in the kinda uniform I don’t know means he’s a nurse or only technically not a nurse meeting me in the reception of their old folks’ place here. Nearby. Tucked away, like… three blocks down.

Just… giving him a real big smile. Tiny smile. Whichever I’ve got.

“He used to live in this area, actually, he and Mister Mercer. But Mister Mercer—Fred—he passed away earlier this year, and he bequeathed a sum in his will for poor Harry to stay here with us. Fred already knew our community since he helped his wife move into our long-term nursing wing, but she—”

_Mhm_. Mhm. Yes. Lot of detail. Important for me to know a fuller story here before I fucking go, apparently. Holding one hand under the strap of my backpack and swinging the other free, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet in my sweat-sticky sandals while I watch in the corner of my eye the two gray-haired black women in walkers making their slow, slow, slow way through some sitting room just ahead.

Don’t purse my lips. No scowling. Don’t look suspicious.

So the Hypno dude slouched over next to me I can call… Harry, now. Going back and picturing a pokemon dude named _Harry_ fucking me up and down wherever he or I felt like.

Or do I prefer having had sex with _Harold_?

Kinda hope it’s not offensive if I just keep calling him the Hypno dude.

“—Really, that was so kind of you to let him into your home like that. We’re so grateful he wasn’t out in that heat too long, and he doesn’t do so well on his own these days anyway. But while he was with you, he didn’t, uh—”

The nursing guy takes a quick look at the Hypno dude who’s squinting at wherever he’s squinting, then takes a sharper, anxious look back at me.

“He didn’t… do anything strange, did he? Anything, uh…?”

Looking sharp and anxious at me, and not breaking his gaze.

Really wants the answer to this.

Big smile, I’m sure of it, and I don’t miss another beat to ask him, “Like what?”

Nurse takes one more second, and he smiles right back.

“Nothing at all. You know. He’s old, so… if you didn’t notice anything, it’s nothing.”

Shrug like _whatever you say_ , none of my business.

Just…

Glance back over at my—at the Hypno guy, and it’s like in the minutes this has taken he’s forgotten my existence. Staring into space. Doesn’t notice me at all.

“When you say old, you mean, like, senile…?”

“Oh, no, no. He just gets a little out of it sometimes. His social awareness hasn’t aged so well with him, or his short term memory. Sometimes he forgets to… pay attention to his surroundings.”

I fucked a geezer.

A geezer fucked _me_.

The reasonable explanation for how that came to be is not making it any easier to keep up this smile.

Guess this is where he got that popsicle from that he gave me. From his old folks’ home.

“Right. Right…. And the odd behavior, um—would that have anything to do with mind control?”

“Ha ha, definitely not. Common misconception. Hypnos can use their hypnosis to put you to sleep if you let them, but they can’t mind control you. Not even after hypnosis. It’s a real shame how much that myth has propagated.”

My lips strain to keep up something polite.

The pendulum was just a necklace. Goddamn red herring.

Don’t think I’ve blinked in twenty seconds.

“Oh.”

Is that me who just said that? Hm. Didn’t notice saying it.

“But that’s what I’m saying. With the sort of reputation Hypnos get from that, it really goes to show just how nice it was of you that you were willing to—”

“ _Yup_. Yeah. Mhm. I just… don’t buy into that kind of bullshit, you know. Just don’t believe it. I don’t believe it. I do not believe it.”

Kinda pursing my lips anyway. Sucking my teeth.

Takes him a second, but the nurse puts on some disarming kinda grin like he’s offering a truce here. Lifts a hand up behind his neck, scratches.

“Well, that was my way of coming around to mention that we’re always open to visitors here. Some of our residents don’t get many, Harry included… and visitors really help them feel like they’re still connected to the world.”

One more look back to _Harry included_ , and now he’s squinting super intense straight at the nurse, just how he did with me.

The nurse isn’t even glancing back. That’s what he’s not dignifying.

“Good to know,” I tell him.

Nurse’s grin just grows.

“Just saying. You’re always welcome to swing by and say hi. We’re always looking for volunteers to spend time with our residents.”

The two gray-haired ladies are still barely in sight a ways behind him. I can still see them.

And now my brain’s wandering over to the thought of how much _less_ virile an old, old pokemon’s cum is, besides the whole thing of never actually wanting a baby in my goddamn life previous to the past forty-eight hours. And believing for one second a pokemon could do that.

Little _deet-deet_ from the back pocket of my shorts that breaks the silence for me. Pull my phone out and check the notification, and inaccurately, I say, “Ah, damn, I’m late. Yup, thanks for that offer, but right now I’ve got a thing. It’s like a—I should go.”

Nurse grins from me to the Hypno guy, bends his hands down to his knees, crouching face to face. Like a routine.

“Harry, Genna has to say goodbye now. How about you say goodbye to her, too?”

The Hypno guy looks at the nurse, then squints off into space again towards a wall. Not at me. Gotcha.

Muster some kinda smile again, probably, and I slide my phone back in its pocket.

“No problem, I’ll… see him again, or something. Swing by later. He’s good. See you.”

Twist on my sweaty heel and do not take the time for the nurse or anybody else to see me off. I’m out of here. Need to drop by that wine store I’ve seen is my thing I’ve got to get to. Already know I’m gonna get introspective tonight for all this learning new facets of myself and no way in hell I’m doing that without a goddamn drink. And it’s a goddamn hour it’s gonna take me getting back home on my side of the city already.

But—just…

While the automatic doors slide open for me, I do take one look back.

And I get a Hypno looking back at me.

Holding the nurse’s hand, or the nurse is holding his hand while he’s led back for dinner or something, but he’s looking over his shoulder with that big, baggy squint at only me.

His other hand is up to his mouth, two fingers parted on either side of his lips, and he’s licking between them.

Fast.

At me.

For just another second, I’m staring.

He ain’t senile.

I keep walking.

Doors close by themselves behind me, and it’s a little cooler outside by now. Sun’s almost gone and I’m not quite boiling out here anymore. Shore up my backpack.

Heat’s still bad enough that I’m kinda dreading just coming back out here tomorrow after work for the actual housesitting. Momma and Daddy can’t get back soon enough.

Kinda frowning. Kinda thinking, letting my brain wander under its own power.

Brushing an idle hand over my stomach, too, apparently.

Kinda not frowning anymore, I think.

Weird or not, we did kinda get along. I don’t want that poor old guy to get lonely without me.

Some voice in the back of my brain telling me… maybe I should visit him sometime.

Think I might.


End file.
